Format
by Luki Dimension
Summary: Bumblebee goes to the cliff to find a young sparkling, and remembers the incident that brought it into being. No pairings
1. Bumblebee

_Written cause there isn't enough Autobot!Sam._

_Oh, and I now have a beta. Dreams of All will be proof reading this and any other Transformer fics I do. So hopefully my abysmal grammar will be a thing of the past. Enjoy._

* * *

**Format**

The sun was beginning to set as the yellow Camaro drove off the road and stopped on the edge of a cliff. He took a second to admire the view before he transformed into his more comfortable robot mode, and scanned the nearby area.

"I know you're here. You always come here. Come on out."

There was a rustle behind him, and something burst from the foliage, skittering up his back using the Camaro doors for leverage and sitting on his shoulder. The creature was a small Autobot protoform with no transformed mode, and uttered the chirps and vocalisations that only young Cybertronian sparklings ever seemed to be fluent in, conveying a desire to play with Autobot twice his size.

"No, sparkling," Bumblebee urged. "We should return to the base. Ratchet and Ironhide are tearing up the foundations looking for you. How did you manage to slip away from both of them at the same time?"

An electronic laugh was his only reply, and the sparkling crawled down Bumblebee's arm to rest in the Autobot's hand, staring at the sunset. Seeing the enraptured look on the sparkling's face, Bumblebee sat down, careful not to disrupt the being in his hand, and joined him in watching the sunset, though he couldn't help but find his gaze drawn back to the smallest, youngest and newest Autobot of their group.

A sparkling who, less than a month ago, had gone by the name of Sam Witwicky…

* * *

The events of that day would never lose clarity in Bumblebee's memory. He had been taking Sam to the lookout cliff, one of their favourite haunts, and he'd let his guard down, content in his knowledge of the route and distracted with finding radio frequencies to answer his human friend's random comments. He hadn't even realised Barricade had been nearby until the police car was only few feet from his bonnet.

The resulting crash had sent both cars spinning, and Bumblebee had jerked Sam from his seat, not having the time to be delicate, before transforming, Barricade entering robot mode seconds before him. Both had grappled in the road while Sam fled to the side, keeping out of the way of the two.

Bumblebee, so determined to finish this fight fast, hadn't noticed the small silver Decepticon slip from Barricade's side and head straight for Sam. He had, however, heard the gasp of shock from the human as Frenzy had leapt on him, slamming one of his unique throwing disks into the boy's heart.

"Long live Megatron" Frenzy had hissed in Sam's ear, before sprinting back to Barricade. A punch to gain some distance between himself and his yellow enemy and Barricade had been off, flying down the road, the two's apparent 'revenge' complete.

"Sam!" Bumblebee had shrieked, running to and then cradling the near-unconscious boy in his hands.

"Bee…" Sam had coughed. His eyes had drifted shut.

Bumblebee had been just about to transform and break every speed limit in Tranquillity to get Sam to the nearest hospital when the boy's eyes had flown open again, and Sam had given out an almost inhuman shriek. Both of them had watched in astonishment as the disk had crackled with blue energy, and seemed to collapse, sliding into the wound it had made, the injury healing behind it.

Sam's eyes had rolled back into his head, and Bumblebee had forgotten any notion of taking him to a hospital. That had been spark energy, and that meant-

Miles away, in a specially built building outside of Tranquility, a medical bot winced as his sensors were overloaded with an ally screaming his name.

* * *

_No matter what anyone said, Bumblebee knew it was his fault. He hadn't even known Frenzy had __survived—all __reports had said the small Decepticon had been disposed of. He should have seen the Decepticon leave __Barricade's__ side, should have realised that Barricade wouldn't provoke a fight unless he had an ulterior motive…_

* * *

Even with the entirety of the Internet as an aid, Ratchet's knowledge of human medical procedures was limited, and he had screamed at Bumblebee for not heading towards the nearest hospital as soon as possible, knowing that, in his hands, Sam wasn't likely to survive. When Bumblebee had explained the unusual incident involving the throwing disk, Ratchet had been shocked into silence for several minutes. 

"Ratchet?"

"It couldn't be…"

"Ratchet???"

"…Get him here as fast as possible. I can't say anything for sure until I've scanned him myself."

* * *

Ratchet finished his scan and shook his head, stepping back from the human he had just managed to stabilise. If he hadn't seen it for himself, he never would have believed it. He turned to the remaining Autobots: Optimus and Ironhide were also looking for information on the boy's health. Bumblebee was kneeling by Sam's side, his attention split between the two of them. 

"What's wrong, Ratchet?" Optimus eventually asked, confused at the medic's silence.

"The blade hit his heart directly," Ratchet replied. "By all accounts, he should have been dead in less than a minute afterwards."

"Decepticon scum!" Ironhide hissed, activating his cannons. "I'll rip them into so many pieces that not even that cockroach Frenzy will be able to glue himself back together!"

"I don't understand," Bumblebee replied, turning his attention to Ratchet fully. "If he should be dead, how did he survive?"

Ratchet activated a hologram of his recent scan, and closed in on the ribcage. "Because of that…"

The silence in the room was almost tangible.

Sam's heart had clearly been damaged, but rather than a slash wound, it appeared small and shrivelled; around it, a thin metal cage had been constructed, slowly choking the organ. But what caught the attention of the four Autobots was the glowing blue light hiding in the centre of the dying organ.

"A spark," Optimus whispered.

* * *

It was impossible, and everyone in the room knew it. Sparks were the signs of mechanical life; they had no place in organic beings. 

But Ratchet had his own theory, looking at the situation in the boy's chest.

"I can't be sure," he began. "But when Sam held the Allspark while it was destroyed, he must have accidentally received some sort of backlash, resulting in a spark lodging in his chest. Of course, a spark can only take control of a machine, so its never bothered Sam up until now."

The hologram closed in on the cage around the heart.

"But when Cybertronian metal lodged into Sam's heart, the spark began fighting the organic organs. It manipulated the metal of the disk and began choking the heart, so it can become the main life force. Right now, the only thing keeping Sam alive is the spark, and that is only temporary."

"What?" Bumblebee whispered.

"What do you mean?" Optimus asked.

Ratchet sighed, his shoulders dropping. "A spark can only keep a machine or mechanical body alive. When his heart eventually gives out—and given its current state, that won't be long from now—the spark will be unable to control the organic organs without inorganic material to convert them. Sam's body will fail."

"Isn't there anything that can be done?" Ironhide snapped. "Can't we just remove the spark?"

"Removing the spark will only kill him faster," Ratchet snapped back. "His heart is failing as we speak, and I have no doubt the spark will react defensively if we try to take it out. The cage is already beginning to convert into a spark chamber. We have only two options. Allow Sam to die, or…"

"Or what Ratchet?" Optimus asked, staring at the boy who he still owed a life debt to. Whatever it was, they would do it.

"Or we give the spark exactly what it wants. Metal. Machinery. Inorganic material to convert the body.

"We allow the spark to convert Sam into an Autobot."

* * *

_At the end of the day, what else could they have done? All of the Autobots considered Sam a friend. They owed him a great deal, and it was due to them that he was in the situation in the first place. How could they possibly allow him to die when he could live?__ Albeit a life far different from the one he was accustomed __to._

* * *

The process took almost two weeks. It became necessary to explain to Sam's family and friends just what was happening to him. Ironhide brought in Will Lennox to act as a liason, given that Sam's parents still didn't know what had happened in Mission City or about the Autobots. The Autobots were less worried about what cover story Will and the government came up with to explain Sam's absence or his inability to get visitors, and more concerned with supplying the boy with the metal his spark required. They weren't equipped to create the amount the spark needed in the time they had. 

So when Ironhide arrived with the back of his vehicle mode filled with the stuff, nobody questioned it, and Ratchet tried to ignore the fact that it was covered in letters and symbols, most prominently the word 'Police.'

* * *

The newest Autobot was almost complete when he finally woke up, but before Ratchet or Bumblebee, both rarely away from his side, could explain, Sam began screaming. 

"Calm down, Sam!"

"Hold him down before he hurts himself, Bumblebee!"

"Aaahhhh! Arghhhh!"

"Sam! It's all right! Everything's going to be okay."

Suddenly, the screaming stopped, the Autobot apparently going offline, except that Sam's optics shone several shades brighter.

"His processor's programming has taken over," Ratchet noted, scanning Sam's head. "Why would it-"

Ratchet's own optics widened, and he jerked for access to Sam's central system.

"NO!"

* * *

_Bumblebee was not a liar. He knew one of the vast differences between an Autobot and a human was their life spans. No matter how much he enjoyed his time with Sam, it was horrifically limited. He wouldn't be able to spend even a century in his company, and deep down part of him wished the __impossible: that__ Sam was one of them, that Sam could be made of wire and metal, rather than flesh and blood. A Sam that would see forever with him._

_When the truth of what had happened was explained to him, he would have given anything to take it back._

* * *

The final sliver of the sun vanished past the horizon, and the sparkling in Bumblebee's hand jumped down, muttering in Cybertronian about going home. Bumblebee nodded, and transformed back into a car. 

"Ride inside. I don't know how you keep getting here without being seen without an alternate form, but we're not taking any chances going back."

The sparkling complied, jumping into the back seat before accessing the Internet. His processor still couldn't handle the huge mass of information, so he kept downloading in erratic jumps that gave the Autobot the appearance of a nervous twitch as Bumblebee pulled out onto the road.

* * *

When the spark had begun converting Sam's body, it had had no intention of leaving anything behind. When everything organic had left Sam, every fibre of knowledge, memory and being that resided in his brain had been converted into data. When Sam had awoken, and discovered what had happened to him, he had panicked, and the spark had seen that the data from the organic was dangerous to its existence. Little more than the basic survival instincts of an organic could be adapted to be used in an Autobot body. Memories made no sense, knowledge of the human body, senses, limitations, they only set out to confuse the Autobot who used completely different systems. 

So the spark had isolated them, and purged them from its processor, effectively destroying everything that made Sam, Sam.

Ratchet had tried to stop the purge. Oh, how he'd tried. But even he could only save a handful of fragments, shards of memory that made little sense to any being. Sam was gone, and when the new Autobot had woken up, he had been a blank slate, with no more personality than a human infant, or rather, a sparkling on Cybertron.

The Autobots had tried to see the positive side of it. Sam would have had difficulty forgetting a lifetime, however short it was by Autobot standards, of teachings and facts. Without them, the new sparkling would probably adapt quicker, relying on instincts programmed into his processor by the spark. It was because of this that they referred to him as 'the sparkling' now, rather than Sam. The sparkling had the right to become his own Autobot without anyone forcing an older personality onto him. He would choose his own name, and his own alternate vehicle in his own time.

But deep down, each of them mourned the loss of their friend, of whom they had denied even the right of death, instead being wiped out as if he was just an unnecessary file.

Mikaela blamed them. She hadn't said it out loud, but it was obvious in the distance she had started to put between herself and the beings she had once called friends. And Sam's parents…

Eventually, it had been Will, one of the few that understood they'd only done what they felt they had to, who had told the truth to the Witwickys. Or had tried to, at least – Ron had kicked him out during his explanation, and warned him never to show up again.

A week later the funeral for Sam Witwicky had been held, with a closed casket so no one would know it was empty. To Sam's parents, it was probably the only closure they would get.

Bumblebee however, had his own way of comforting himself at the loss of Sam, and kept a watchful eye on the sparkling in his backseat.

The fragments of memory that Ratchet saved, no matter how small or senseless they were, had survived. And they compelled the sparkling to make sense of them. Why else would the protoform constantly return to the place that had meant so much to Sam?

"F-f-faster!" the sparkling urged, practicing his rather bad English, looking out the window of the camaro.

If Bumblebee had been capable of smiling, he would have, but instead he began to accelerate, and turned on his radio.

_There are things in life you'll learn and,_

_In time you'll see,_

_Cause out there somewhere,_

_It's all waiting_

Perhaps it was just wishful thinking, but every now and then, when the protoform did something unexpected, Bumblebee swore he could see a flash of brown in the bright blue optics.

**To be continued**

_Song: Phil Collins – Look Through My Eyes (I cannot believe how hard it is to find lyrics for Bee TT)_


	2. Ratchet

**Ratchet **

_Ratchet was sure that if he hadn't know the patient, or if he had merely been watching a recording of an experiment performed years before, it would have been fascinating. There was no organic life on Cybertron, and so they had never seen what the Allspark could do to flesh and blood. In theory, it was an interesting premise; one that, as humans say, once upon a time, he would have been interested in viewing._

_But with the memory of the entire process embedded in his mind, never to fade, all he wanted to do was delete the files and pretend that it had never happened._

_The end result aside, the medic had watched what could only be described as slow torture envelop his human friend, to the point where he'd forcibly offlined Bumblebee at times when he didn't want the far younger bot to record what he could see. Sam, he hoped to Primus, hadn't felt a thing. He'd given him sedatives to keep him unconscious for as long as possible during the process, but he would never know now._

_The process of turning an organic into an inorganic was not pretty. Or quick. Each organ found itself slowly being choked of blood while a metallic counterpart was created in the same area. When the organ finally gave up, the body immediately switched to the equivalent machine, and left what was left of the organ to wither away. As the body was deprived of the necessary nutrients it needed, flesh began to rot or was peeled away to make room for the armour that would replace it. For several days the smell would have been intolerable for a human. _

_But the worst part had been the head. At one point, either through spark error or incidental planning, half of Sam's face had caved in, giving Ratchet an almost morbidly good look at the conversion of muscle and bone to their Autobot counterparts. He had feared for Sam's mind most at that point – how would the brain, which held all that made Sam, Sam, handle conversion into a processor? He'd upped the sedative to almost deadly levels, although by that time he wasn't sure if they'd have an effect – was Sam more human or Autobot by then? If he had woken up then, if the pain hadn't killed him, the shock would have. Bumblebee and the others were forbidden from setting foot in the medical bay for the three days it took the protoform skull to complete._

_In hindsight, it was almost funny – when the head was complete, he'd allowed himself to relax. The worst had been over, Sam would be fine._

_And then Sam had woken up...and started screaming._

_He was divided on why. Part of him theorised that it was the shock of seeing the world in a different form. The senses of an Autobot were nothing compared to a humans: optics, audio, sensors—they would have overwhelmed him easily._

_The darker part of him wondered, though, if perhaps the sedatives had stopped working, and this was just the first time he could begin to react._

_At the end of the day, however, it didn't matter. His circuits had run cold when he'd realised the processor's commands. Even though, logically, he had done everything he could, part of him wondered if he could have been that little bit faster to get access, if he could have used a different retrieval program on the files that made up Sam's psyche. Part of him should have realised it would happen. The spark was converting everything; what possible reason would it have to save what the humans considered their 'soul?'_

_For anyone in the medical profession, there was nothing worse than losing someone you had tried to save, but this incident in particular would haunt the medic forever. He had suggested continuing the conversion; he had been in charge of making sure Sam survived_

* * *

Ratchet was completely engrossed in his work, so he heard rather than saw the sparkling hit the room's defences, and gave an uncharacteristic smirk as the little Autobot fled between his legs, armour slightly smoking from the electrical discharge.

"Looks like we finally found a security system you can't get through" he said, and turned to assess the damage. For once, the door showed no signs of suffering a breach, and his ward was glaring at it, apparently having no intention of going near it again any time soon. The sparkling wasn't going to wander off during his care ever again.

He'd forgotten what it was like to have sparklings underfoot. Their insatiable curiosity, unending energy, the inability to keep their hands off anything, and the talent for finding trouble whatever they did. Regardless of the events surrounding his 'birth', their newest addition acted like any other he'd had to care for on Cybertron.

However, that was a double-edged sword. True, the sparkling seemed to be adjusting, but he wasn't safe here. He kept escaping the base and running off, and there was no telling what kind of panic he would cause if someone spotted him in Tranquility. A human-sized protoform was not the friendliest of sights to regular civilians. Despite the more forceful feedback of his current system, he had no choice – the sparkling had gotten out of any other system installed to watch him, and with the base still under construction and Starscream still on the loose, they were just too thinly spread out to constantly have a pair of optics on him.

Had the situation been different, they would have considered asking one of their human allies to help care for him, but Captain Lennox was busy with his own sparkling, and Mikaela didn't appear to want anything to do with them now. She hadn't set foot on their base since they'd given her the news of Sam's fate. The only other humans that knew of them were the female systems analyst and the hacker, or the government officials. None of the Autobots had spent enough time with the computer experts to be comfortable with them, and they would rip the sparks from their bodies themselves before they let Simmons or any of his henchman within a five mile radius of the human turned Autobot, so it was up to them. He and Ironhide were taking shifts today—although Bumblebee usually volunteered, he was out chasing leads on the rogue jet plane.

Regardless of what had happened, Bumblebee hated to be far away from the sparkling.

* * *

_If the memory of Sam Witwicky's body slowly destroying and recreating itself would remain branded in his processor for its sheer awfulness, the look on Bumblebee's face when Ratchet had told him what had happened to Sam filled the folder on 'pain'._

"_What do you mean, gone?" the young bot's voice hadn't sounded so broken since it had first been fixed, the final miracle of the Mission City battle. Ironhide and Optimus had looked at him with confusion and almost—but not completely—hidden fear._

_Ratchet could only shake his head, forcing his hands to stop shaking. "His processor took down everything. Memories, personality, basic instincts. I saved fragments, but the purge was too far gone by the time I gained access."_

_Bumblebee had looked up with hope in his blue optics at the word 'fragments' and he'd had to continue._

"_What remains of the original...memory, is just a few lines of code. I can't make sense of them, and I don't know how much they will make to him either."_

_He turned to the Autobot lying on the table. "He will wake up in the next few minutes, but I don't hold much hope that the personality will be recognisable."_

_It hadn't. And when those completely innocent eyes had turned on Ratchet, he had closed his eyes. He had given Sam's body to a stranger, and one he couldn't blame. _

* * *

The door's defences crackled again, and the smell of burnt wiring filled the room.

"What are you doing? Trying to barbeque the runt?"

"Don't let him out the door, Ironhide. I'm not in the mood to play hide and seek for six hours again."

The weapons specialist complied, grabbing the bot when he made a break for the closing door with a surprisingly gentle hand. The protoform 'huffed' but didn't try to escape the hold.

"I can't believe **I'm** saying this" Ironhide began. "Especially to you, but isn't hooking the door to an oversized cattle prod a little overkill?"

"It was a last resort. He's found holes in every non-violent defence we have, and until he's old enough to handle a vehicle mode he can't leave the base for his own safety."

Ironhide looked at the captured sparkling, who was currently inspecting the wires hidden in his arm that would activate his cannons when required.

"He's going to have a problem with that. He's too small for most human transports, but he's too large to pull a Frenzy and hide as something else."

"Bumblebee has already started researching options for him" Ratchet replied. "Did you have a reason for interrupting me?"

Ironhide dropped the sparkling to the ground, and he darted under the table out of sight.

"Optimus wants to know how you're doing with Jazz and the Allspark fragment."

Ah, of course. He'd shut off his long distance communications so he wouldn't be distracted (well, any more than he was) while he analysed the shard, and it had been a while since he'd reported to their leader. It was so easy to get engrossed when you felt you were on the verge of a breakthrough.

Ratchet smiled. "Tell him I just need a little more time. I'm still awaiting the results of the last few tests I performed, but if they're conclusive, I'm certain we can recreate Jazz's spark."

Jazz's spark. A hope for the Autobots, who were currently far too few, and, for Ratchet, possibly redemption.

Ironhide's grin could have broken his face in half. "Well it's about time! When are we bringing him back?"

Ratchet held up a palm. "Be patient. I have a lot of confidence in the results, but I have to make sure everything adds up. It's only a shard, with limited energy. It's not the Allspark, and even that, regardless of its power, was not known for bringing back the dead."

Ironhide's smile dimmed. "True. The war wouldn't have lasted so long if we could have brought back those who fell."

"We're only going to get one shot at this" Ratchet urged. "So best to have everything confirmed before we rush into it."

"Fine, fine" Ironhide groused. "I'll leave you to it, and I'll take the runt off your hands, too..."

Ironhide trailed off as he looked around the room, sensors scanning, and Ratchet swung round to look at the door.

It was open, his defence system dismantled beside it.

"How does he keep doing that!?"

Ironhide took a closer look at the dismantled parts, then looked at his arm, and chuckled.

"I don't believe it. He took a look at my arm, recorded what wires went where for deactivation then improvised with your security set-up. Kid's a fast learner."

"Stop complimenting him and help me find him before he gets out of the base!"

**To be continued . . .**


	3. Ironhide

This chapter has a couple of issues. Its rather erratic at times given that I wasn't entirely sure what I was trying to do with it. Ironhide is an annoyingly hard character to write for, probably because he has some damn MUCH character.

Anyway, you all know the drill by now, R&R.

* * *

**Ironhide**

Like all Cybertronians, Ironhide had nothing but love and admiration for the Allspark. It was what allowed them to exist, what gave them life.

But he did wonder what part of it had thought it was a good idea to create beings armed with a missile silo's worth of ammunition that they could activate before they even learned how to talk properly.

It had mostly been an accident. He'd come into the base with one of his arm's weaponry fully transformed, despite Optimus's strict orders that no weapons be activated inside unless there was a Decepticon attack, thanks to a circuitry fault he needed Ratchet to fix, and he'd bumped into the sparkling, who had managed to slip away from Bumblebee; he appeared captivated. It wouldn't register until later that it was the first time the sparkling had seen any of the older Autobot's weaponry in full glory, something they had all been trying to avoid until he was old enough to really comprehend weapon training.

Later, after Ratchet had fixed the problem, and Bumblebee had taken the sparkling outside in the hopes that mild freedom might curb his incessant escaping habit, Ironhide had been reporting to Optimus on the progress of finishing the outer walls... when one of them blew up with a small explosive blast, closely followed by a scream from Bumblebee. The three Autobots still in the building had bolted outside battle ready, only to see the yellow scout yelling at a rather stricken sparkling. This in itself was hard to take – Ironhide hadn't thought that Bumblebee was capable of being truly angry at the little one.

But it was that their young sparkling's right arm had turned into a gun, similar to Bumblebee's, that made them gape.

And when they'd found out Ironhide had been the one to let the sparkling see his cannons, he'd been exceptionally grateful that Bumblebee didn't have a laser ability equipped to his optics. The glare he was getting was painful enough as it was.

Regardless of just how their ward learned how to do it, though, the fact remained that he now _could_. And despite the verbal beating Bumblebee had given him the first time, the sparkling had apparently developed a taste for explosions. It almost reminded Ironhide of himself when he'd first realised just what his missile launchers were actually _for_

_

* * *

_

"_You have to let me deactivate them," Ratchet had urged at the hastily assembled gathering they'd formed after the sparkling, having tired of trying to get out the door, had decimated the better part of a wall in order to get out. He'd been caught, but the punishments afterward hadn't seemed to deter him. "He's far too young for weapon training, and if he gets out-"_

"_Which he's going to do eventually," Bumblebee had piped up._

"_Yes, when he gets out," Ratchet agreed. "What if he accidentally uses it on a human? I don't even want to think of the ramifications that would cause."_

"_The problem with taking his cannon offline, however," Optimus had said, "Is that it could drive him to try and activate something different. I doubt the cannon is his only weapon."_

_  
"And if the runt follows his regular pattern, denying him something's just going to make him want it more," Ironhide had added. "He's young, but he's a fast learner, and got a real handle on improvisation when he needs it. Who's to say he won't figure out how to reactivate it?"_

_Ratchet had cradled his head in one hand with irritation. "Then what do you suggest, Ironhide? Just let him keep blowing up the base until he hits something important?"_

_Ironhide had just grinned. "Not exactly..."_

* * *

Which is how he'd ended up researching the area, and winding up in an extremely rocky valley several miles away from Tranquillity, where few people ventured, with a rather excited sparkling by his side.

"Okay runt, go wild."

The sparkling shrieked something almost unintelligible, and started blasting rocks, going for larger ones that required several rounds. Ironhide kept one eye of the Cybertronian child bolting around the area, and another on the walls for any rocks that could dislodge and result in even a mild avalanche, which could crush his small ward.

Certainly, it wasn't the smartest idea in the world, letting the sparkling come to an uninhabited area to blow everything to pieces until the gimmick wore off, but so far, it seemed to be working. The last three days Ironhide had brought him here, not only had the sparkling kept the gun deactivated within the base, but his attempts to escape had been half-hearted. Maybe Bumblebee had been on to something when he thought of giving the young bot 'mild freedom'.

The sparkling certainly took a different view on blowing things up compared to—who he had been. Sam had always been rather hesitant whenever their weapons had been in view, no doubt due to having them blast barely metres away from him in Mission City while he ran for his life, a fear that the sparkling had no reason to have.

He'd never been as close to Sam as the others had been. He'd found more enjoyment from the company of Will Lennox, a fellow soldier, but he had respected the boy who had risked his life repeatedly when the Allspark had been given to him to protect. He had been loyal, kind, and willing to risk his life to save those he cared about.

It had been that which had made his decision all the more easier.

* * *

"_It's not going to work?" _

_Bumblebee looked stricken after Ratchet's stats diagnosis, and Ironhide had briefly wondered if he should ask Optimus to remove the small Autobot from the room for his own mental safety._

"_We can't make the armour in time," Ratchet repeated. "I have the materials, but to refine them to a suitable level will take at least a month. I'd be impressed if Sam can survive after halting the conversion for as much as a week."_

"_Can't we compromise?" Bumblebee continued. "Does it have to be Cybertronian armour?"_

"_We could use earthly non-refined materials, Bumblebee," Optimus cut in. "They are close enough to our own composition that the conversion might actually take them, but they would never survive the stress of daily life. He would be constantly breaking down. Those in Mission City created by the Allspark didn't last particularly long." _

_Ironhide nodded in memory. The drinks machine had been taken out by a car crashing into it, while the games console had found a few bullets in its shell. The devices in the car had probably suffered rather painfully, being crushed by fleeing civilians as they left the safety of the car. Mankind's machines simply weren't made of strong enough stuff._

"_And that's assuming it will actually take," Ratchet added. "Given that the conversion started with Cybertronian armour, its probably all the spark will accept, now."_

"_So what do we do...?"_

_It took years of training not to cringe at the brokenness of Bumblebee's voice, and Ironhide had realised there was only one acceptable option. If they couldn't make the materials in time, they would have to get them ready made._

_And he knew just where to get it._

* * *

Trying to find Barricade hadn't been easy on the best of days. The Decepticon had been a master of infiltration, and well aware that the Autobots were ready to crush him into slag at the first available opportunity. Both he and Frenzy were keeping a low profile.

He was at it two days, getting more and more worried every minute, knowing that sooner or later, Ratchet would probably find Bumblebee dismantling himself in order to donate parts. He hacked into the police channels, checking every frequency and hunting down every car that kept its radio quiet, until he narrowed it down to one option.

Barricade had been staying in an abandoned garage on the opposite outskirts of Tranquillity, where few humans visited, and those that did were rarely in a condition to remember what was real and what was caused by the various concoctions they'd ingested. He'd clearly heard Ironhide before he'd arrived, as he was fully transformed and awaiting the Autobot when he pulled up. Frenzy was nowhere to be seen, but Ironhide kept an optic open for the irritatingly vicious bot.

"I was wondering when one of you would show up," Barricade hissed. "Although I was expecting Bumblebee. Did he shut himself down when his little pet died in his arms?"

"You are scum, Barricade!" Ironhide snarled. "As well as 'your' little pet. We've fought for so long, neither side gaining so much as an inch. And when we finally have a chance to end it all, all you can think about is revenge?"

The Decepticon snorted. "Don't be so high and mighty – you would be just the same. What if Lord Megatron had won? If this world was now his, as it should have been, would you have just given up? If your precious Optimus had fallen, if humanity was extinct, the Allspark Lord Megatron's, you would still have never stopped fighting, no matter how pointless."

Ironhide winced. It was a truth that hit a little too close to home. It was a nice thought, to think that the war would end with the death of Megatron and the destruction of the Allspark, but both sides had been fighting for so long, it would be hard to ever find peace between them.

But he hadn't come here to talk, so he activated his cannons and took a step forward.

"You're wrong about one thing, Decepticon," Ironhide warned. "The boy isn't dead."

There was just enough time for the surprise to register on Barricade's face before a barrage of shots headed in his direction.

* * *

_Barricade had chosen his 'home' poorly. True, it kept him away from humans, but it also meant Ironhide didn't have to tiptoe around to minimise losses. The general radius was nothing but rubble within minutes. _

_The Decepticon was small, but he knew how to fight. Even with Ironhide's larger frame making close combat difficult, Barricade had given as good as he got. And it only got harder when Frenzy leapt from his chest to dig deep into Ironhide's armour, forcing him away from Barricade to deal with the smaller Decepticon._

"_D-D-dead! Dead! Dead!" Frenzy cackled, trying to get a hold of Ironhide's right arm. "Witwicky sh-sh-oud be dead!"_

_Barricade was rushing towards him, that vicious spiked wheel weapon of his spinning. With a yell, Ironhide finally got a hold of Frenzy, crushing his legs and throwing him into the wheel. Barricade, with split-second instincts, spun out of the way, only to find the Autobot slamming him onto the ground. Frenzy darted back over, making a beeline for the sensitive wiring in Ironhide's neck, only to find him snatched in the air with another hand. He was thrown to the ground, and gave a screech as every part of his body was crushed simultaneously by the metal hand. He was not getting back up this time._

"_He was a good partner," Barricade snarled, trying to jerk free from the older bot, and getting the other hand slammed onto his body to keep him down for his trouble._

"_And you are both scum," Ironhide snapped right back, charging up on cannon, and targeting the Decepticon's spark. If he minimised the damage, they could salvage the majority of the armour._

"_This isn't your way. If the boy isn't dead, why come after us?"_

_It wasn't a plea. It was just a statement, made by one who had known he was dead the moment he'd crashed into that Camaro._

_The cannon braced itself against Barricade's chest, and Ironhide took the question as Barricade's last request._

"_The boy had a spark," He snapped. "If we convert him, he'll survive. Congratulations, you're going to save his life."_

_Incomprehension spanned Barricades features, before a rumble began in his throat, and Ironhide's expression darkened when it turned into laughter._

"_And you consider us evil!" Barricade cackled. "Oh, such torture that boy will endure. Not as appealing as death, perhaps, but I will die with no regrets."_

"_What are you talking about?" Ironhide yelled, his anger charging up the cannon on the Decepticon's chest._

"_If you really think an organic being can withstand becoming one of us and remaining sane, you truly are a fool," Barricade finished. "I wish I could see the pain on your faces when you realise that yourself. Regret can kill as easily as an energy beam, you know."_

"_I will not regret this."_

_Ironhide's cannon fired._

* * *

Humans would have probably referred to it as organ donating, or quite possibly cannibalism, and the process of using materials from the dead was not something Autobots liked to do, although it had become widely accepted in the war, when new parts had been impossible to find. The factories that were built to fuel the building were always the first targets.

Either way, Ironhide had been grateful that none of the Autobots, not even Optimus, had questioned his actions. Barricade had been a threat, and he had had something they had needed. At the end of the day, Ironhide had done what had had to be done. And giving Bumblebee the crushed and mangled body of Frenzy to shoot to pieces had just been an unexpected bonus.

But when the final act of conversion had begun, and Sam had vanished from this world completely, Ironhide couldn't help but remember Barricade's final words. How had the Decepticon known? Had he lied? One final attempt at attacking the Autobot's honour, or had he known it could only end painfully?

"'Hide?"

Ironhide pulled himself out of his musings as he stared down at the sparkling.

"Finished already?"

The sparkling shrugged, and jerked his head in the direction of the blasting zone. It was starting to look like a desert, with most of the stones blown into nothing but the dust that covered the rocky floor.

"Guess that means we'll have to find you somewhere else to play now."

A few chirps in Cybertronian and an image of the lookout filled Ironhide's mind, and he transformed into his truck form, opening one of his doors.

"Fine. We'll go look to that lookout of yours, but only for five minutes, then it's back to the base."

"T-ten!" the sparkling argued, and Ironhide laughed.

"Tell you what, runt, when you can speak English without having to stutter, then you can argue with me. But for now, do what I say."

The sparkling leapt into the back, and the duo drove off, heading for the road.

Ironhide didn't regret it. He didn't. Sam had been going to die, but instead, his life had been given another chance. It hurt, yes. If there had been a way to save him, Ironhide would have done it in a micro-second, but there hadn't been. If the spark had forced his memories to be destroyed, they could mourn, but they shouldn't regret.

They had another of their kind to care for now. He wouldn't ever regret that.

**To be continued...**


	4. Optimus Prime

_Okay, first off, I apologise. I meant to answer all review questions yadda yadda last chapter, but due to the whole laptop fiasco I snapped and didn't bother putting up any answers. However, now that my laptop's nice and fixed (and probably cleaner than its been since I got it), I can actually do something about it._

_CaravanKa – (laughs) No, the sparkling's WAY too large to hide as a skateboard, especially given that it doesn't have a motor. I did contemplate making him one of those minibike things that people seem to be obsessed with, but I'll probably go with a proper motorbike of some kind._

_Epona Harper – Dang you. I was going to go with the name 'Spike' for obvious reasons. However, ever since you put 'Phoenix' up for suggestion its been on my mind, so I have no idea what the sparkling is going to call himself now._

_Sanosuke-1 – Yes to Jazz. No to any non-movie transformer. Why? Mainly because I'm a movie newbie. I was never a fan of the cartoon (though I did like Beast Wars), so I wouldn't have the slightest clue how to write for those characters._

_Robin Steele – I'm still deciding about the hologram. Definitely if I go for a motorbike transformation he's going to at have one at least with that (a car without a driver can be passed off with dark windows or as a trick of the light. A rider less motorbike…might raise a few eyebrows). As for a full body hologram, it's an idea._

* * *

The Peterbuilt truck was roaring along, preparing to turn onto the off-road path that led to the Autobot's base when he spotted the short metallic figure sprinting towards the town nearby. 

Optimus exhaust pipes gave out what sounded like a sigh, and he turned around with a screech and headed after the sparkling, quickly overtaking him and skidding to a stop.

"Op-mus" the sparkling squeaked in surprise, stopping in his tracks.

After briefly scanning the area for any nearby humans, Optimus quickly transformed and stared down at the sparkling, hands on his hips.

"I thought Bumblebee and Ironhide had cured you of this."

The sparkling had the decency to look sheepish, and leapt onto Optimus's foot. Within seconds, he was halfway up the giant's frame, heading for his head. The leader of the Autobots was tempted to pull him off so he could transform without worry, but the sparkling seemed to be enjoying himself, they weren't that far from the base, and there was no one near enough to see him.

"Oh all right, but hang on."

"Okay, kay!"

* * *

_When Ratchet told them of the incident, Optimus felt a deep weight settle on his shoulders, and he couldn't take his optics off the small protoform lying on the table in Ratchet's medical bay. He knew that terrible things could happen, regardless of the best intentions; the war had started because the Decepticons thought that Megatron's way was 'correct'; the Autobots themselves killed friends and family to defend their beliefs. It was the 'right' thing to do._

_He knew Sam would have difficulty adjusting to life as an Autobot; their races were, literally, worlds apart. But they would have stood by him, helped him make sense of it all, regardless of how long it took. What kind of cruel fate allowed something like this to happen?_

_He walked up to Bumblebee, who was kneeling by Sam's side, and put a hand on the yellow Autobot's shoulder. "Be strong my friend. We will have to be, for him."_

_This situation was more horrifying than he had ever thought something could be, but he couldn't allow it to show. He had to keep a calm façade up for the others._

_There was a quiet humming, and all turned to see Sam's optics flash and light up. They moved to surround him slowly, watching the Autobot slowly sit up._

"_Sam?" Bumblebee asked hopefully._

_The protoform jerked his head in the direction of the sound, but gave no recognition that he recognised the name or the Autobot who had uttered it. With a dark, sinking feeling, Optimus brought his hand towards the protoform, the large fingers easily within touching distance. A pair of hands grabbed one of the fingers, and he felt the brushing of someone downloading information, something Sam should have had no idea how to do._

_It finished in seconds, and the protoform let go, uttering the simple phrases it had just learned._

"_Who? Energy? Play?"_

_The basic desires of any infant._

"_I'm afraid I was right" Ratchet sighed, visibly drooping. "There wasn't enough left to re-establish the personality. He's been regressed to a sparkling's level."_

"_Slag it all!" Ironhide roared, punching a nearby wall, cracking the surface, only to jerk back as a cry came from Sam's body, the small Autobot trying to shrink away and make himself smaller._

"_Calm down, Ironhide!" Ratchet hissed, watching as Bumblebee scooped Sam up, keeping him supported in his arms while uttering encouragement in Cybertronian. "You know…sparklings…get scared easily when they're newly awoken."_

_Bumblebee looked up from the sparkling, optics dim. "What will we tell Mikaela? And his family?"_

_Optimus sighed, and walked up to Bumblebee, holding his hand out again, allowing the sparkling to start another download._

"_The truth. We can only hope they forgive us for it."_

* * *

When you were as small and flexible as the sparkling, especially when surrounded by beings who were several times his size, everyone in the world was a climbing frame, and Optimus was no exception. The small protoform was quite happily perched on his head, and showing no signs of moving, which wasn't unusual. He seemed to prefer being at 'eye level' with his brothers whenever he could be, and was often found perched on the shoulders or head of whatever Autobot was taking care of him at the time. Unless of course, he was trying to get out. 

Optimus had a feeling that when the sparkling became more aware of himself, he would probably come to resent his size. Most Autobots were at least twelve feet, unless they'd been specifically designed otherwise, and the sparkling was only a little over half that. It wasn't impossible to transfer a spark to a new body, one that had been modified for size or functions. Optimus and Megatron had both undergone the procedure when they had become leaders of Cybertron, as a symbol of their power.

But if the sparkling did request a size increase, Optimus was tempted to refuse. If his current intelligence and emerging personality were anything to go by, the sparkling would be phenomenal at infiltration, in both Decepticon and human bases, much like Frenzy had been.

Frenzy, he remembered with a grimace, had once been much larger, until he'd had his spark placed in that tiny chassis. Nobody had been able to figure out why: the form was far weaker, and he could do very little damage. There hadn't seemed to be any merit in it.

And then the Decepticon had infiltrated the majority of the Autobot bases and crippled their systems repeatedly, indirectly causing their defeat more times than he wished to remember. It had been astonishing how many exits there were for smaller beings, ones that had been ignored because it had been thought that no one could fit through them. Frenzy had gone from a nameless grunt to one of Megatron's prized soldiers within days for those actions.

Indeed, an Autobot trained in infiltration would be a priceless addition. As much as he hated to take their last sparkling, to take Sam's legacy, into the battlefield, into a war that started on a world the sparkling would never even be able to see, Optimus was well aware that he would have little option. Megatron was dead, but the Decepticons numbers would eventually find their way to Earth, and an untrained Autobot was asking to be destroyed, or worse, stolen away and 'embraced' into the Decepticon life. They'd had to make that choice with Bumblebee, and it had to be made again.

There was a crackle through his communications system, and Bumblebee's voice came through, much to the sparkling's delight.

"Optimus," the yellow bot began, sounding somewhat stressed. "I have to leave the base. The sparkling's gotten out again. I took my optics off him for-"

"Its all right, Bumblebee," Optimus interrupted. "I found him on my way back to the base. We'll both be there in another minute or so."

There was silence on the other end for a few moments, eventually followed by a small sigh.

"Thank Primus for that. I think my processor nearly overloaded when I realised he'd gone. I still haven't figured out how he did it, the door hasn't been touched."

"We'll scan the base again tonight and see what we can do," Optimus replied. "Optimus out."

As the base came into sight, the sparkling crawled off Optimus's head and landed on his shoulder, blue optics narrowing in on a figure just outside the main door.

"Angry Bee" he said, falling back into a sitting position and leaning against Optimus's neck.

"I'm not surprised" Optimus replied. "We're going to start punishing you if you don't start listening to us. It's for your own safety, as well as everyone else's."

But the little bot showed no signs of paying attention, already back on his feet and clambering down the moving form, jumping once he reached the knee and bolting towards Bumblebee, who looked like he was trying to discipline the protoform with words, and failing miserably judging from the grin creeping onto his face.

Optimus paused, folding his arms as he watched the scene. The Autobots would always remember their failure in protecting Sam Witwicky, the human who had not only become Bumblebee's closest friend, but who had saved his world and Optimus Prime's life. It was something they would not, _could_ not forget, no matter how much time passed.

But for now, just allowing the sparkling to be himself, rather than weighing him down with what 'once was', was one of the most uplifting things in the Autobot's lives right now. Watching him run around while Bumblebee chased him, that incessant curiosity, the simple freedom and delight the being took in just being alive, reminded him of just why they had been fighting. Why their world had been destroyed. Would any sparklings born under Decepticon rule have had this freedom? Or would they have found themselves thrust into warrior moulds and never known what it was to truly be Cybertronian? Optimus doubted Megatron would have allowed much in the way of free thought, in fear of being usurped. Starscream was enough of a handful for him at the best of times; he wouldn't have needed a younger upstart for his second-in-command to scheme with.

Even if their home was gone for good, and the sparkling, created on earth with a human… 'donor' would be the last of their kind, knowing that their race and their children would never become the bane of every other race's existence almost made it worth it.

**To be continued**

* * *

_Sorry to all Jazz fans, but next chapter 'should' be a Mikaela one, and then Jazz. I think I've kept Mikky out long enough._

_Oh, and if anyone has any names for the sparkling, please let me know. Like I said above, I was going to call him Spike, but thanks to EH I'm now rather partial to 'Phoenix'. If anyone has anything better, please share._


	5. Mikaela

Danke Danke to everyone who offered up names. A few of them I liked, a few I hated, and a few I'm so so on. However, I recently came up with a couple of my own which I might decide between. I've got a while before I really need to decide me thinks.

_**BlackBolt –**__ Sorry, but this won't be Sam/Bee. I have no issue with slash (hell, you kinda have to be open to it just to enjoy fanfiction these days) but I can't write romance in any form, and as a whole I prefer writing friendship/brotherly fics. If you want Autobot!Sam slash try Brainwaves. It's got just as much angst and it moves way faster than I do _

You all know the drill by now. R&R

* * *

Mikaela wrapped her arms around her legs as she sat on the ground, staring at the view from the lookout, watching the sun fall as she had countless times before. She hadn't been here in a while.

As a whole, she preferred to come to the lookout rather than to Sam's grave. There was something false and humiliating in visiting a place made to respect the dead when you knew there was an empty grave beneath the headstone. After the funeral, she'd only visited it twice in the last four months.

Four months. How could it have been so long already? School vacation had come and gone, summer was starting to decay into autumn, and she'd gone a third of a year without seeing Sam.

How did someone become so vitally important to your life so fast? How did it go from not knowing his name to being able to picture being with him for the next several years in such as short time?

So why had it been. Why was she here and why was Sam…not?

Maybe if it hadn't happened so fast, maybe if there hadn't been so much happening, so many damn giant robots, things would have been okay. It wouldn't have hurt so much. They had both been seventeen, love was fickle at the best of times, they could have broken up a week later regardless of how well things were going, even though she doubted they could have ever stopped being friends. There was a bond forged from the actions that put them together that couldn't be easily destroyed.

Ironic. It was the Autobots that had brought them together, and then ripped them apart. They wanted her forgiveness, that had been obvious at first – she hadn't been able to leave her house without seeing a ridiculously conspicuous vehicle in her street, tailing her wherever she went. At first they had tried to talk to her, then they'd stayed silent. And then they'd stopped showing up at all. They'd made their stance clear; it was up to her to make the next move. Will called her once a month, hoping that he might be able to help her, even if it was just to tell her how the Autobots and the new 'sparkling' were getting along.

Despite what they all might be thinking, it wasn't Sam's death that was getting to her. It was the fact that Sam wasn't dead that kept her from going near the base.

Mikaela had never been a religious person; neither had her parents. But her grandmother had been. She could still remember going to church hand in hand with the old woman, whose utter faith and belief in what came after was as unshakable as the earth itself.

"We must take good care of ourselves in this life, Mikky," she had said, "if we want to protect our immortal souls in the next."

When her grandmother had died—only a few years ago, now—Mikaela had taken solace in her grandmother's faith. That, no matter what, she was in a better place now. And Mikaela might, just might, be able to see her again on the other side.

Sam didn't get that option.

Her hands left her legs to cover her eyes, digging into the hair framing her face. God, why did she always think about this? There was no other way to go around it.

Sam was not dead. His heart didn't stop beating until that damn spark took over, replacing it like a new organ. His soul had still been a part of him when he'd woken up, his very essence.

And then it had been 'deleted', making way for a new personality. The Sam she knew didn't exist on any plane. She would never see him again. If there was a heaven, a place Sam certainly deserved to be, he wouldn't be there.

Because his soul had been given to a new being. Even if it hadn't been intentional, even if it was an accident, how could anyone forgive someone for that?

Despite herself, Mikaela gave out a choked sob, trying to dry eyes she hadn't realised still had tears to cry, and looked back at the sunset.

She'd been doing so well, too. She'd almost gone a month without thinking about all this. A month playing her part in life, going out with naïve friends, smiling at the boys (though never being able to bring up the courage to date just yet), finishing homework.

But she hadn't been able to fool her father, who, even after spending years separated from her, knew her better than anyone. One day he'd driven her out of town, taken her to a place they'd gone often, with a view of the ocean and the smell of cheap beach food.

* * *

"_You still haven't managed to let him go, have you?"_

_Mikaela huddled into her father's side, taking solace in the arm around her shoulder. "It's not as simple as you think."_

"_Mikky, he wouldn't want you to go on suffering like this. He'd want you to move on."_

_The girl nodded. She knew this, and yet…_

"_Dad, what do you know about the soul?"_

_The arm around her tightened. "Why?"_

"_If…if someone was to loose everything about themselves, and, I mean, everything. Memories, personality, their entire mind. And then had to relearn everything before they died, but turned out completely different, what happens to the person they were before?"_

_Her father didn't answer at first, choosing to hold his daughter in silence for a few moments._

"_I think," he began. "That a soul is less complicated than that._

"_Mother was always devout, even if I wasn't, but the way I see it, you have a soul even before you're born, right? So how can your memories be counted as a part of it? What point would they have in the next life? A soul is something far less easy to describe."_

_He'd kissed her forehead and headed her back towards the car._

"_Memories only have a use in this life, Mikky. You use them while you can."_

* * *

It had been the most philosophical thing her father had ever said. She couldn't help but wonder if her mother had been grilling him from the sidelines, coming up with answers to any response Mikaela could throw at him. It wouldn't surprise her.

But even if part of her could understand the reasoning behind it, it didn't make this pain go away. It still hurt.

Suddenly, there was a crash behind her, and Mikaela whipped her head around. A pained gasp escaped her throat and her heart started pumping intensely.

Her blue Vespa had fallen to the ground, and a human-sized Protoform was yanking a leg from underneath it. He'd probably been crouched on the seat and over-tipped it by accident.

Mikaela's hands clenched and she gritted her teeth. Why was he here? She wasn't ready to meet this new 'Sam'. This Autobot that didn't know her, didn't know that name. All she wanted was to leave, but he was all over her scooter, no way to go without getting closer.

She closed her eyes, blocking out the site of the Protoform pushing the scooter back up. She just had to wait. She knew through Will that the 'sparkling' liked to come here, liked to escape from Bumblebee and the others. They would come for him within minutes, and she could go back to forgetting.

Why was he even letting her see him? Surely the Autobots had warned him to stay out of site?

Mikaela turned around, and opened her eyes to ignore the Sparkling and stay distracted by the sun. What she didn't expect was to find two bright blue lights staring into her own eyes.

She shrieked and stumbled to the ground, only to see the Sparkling kneel beside her.

"Go away!" she yelled.

The Sparkling flinched, and backed up a few feet, but didn't take his eyes off her.

Feeling her eyes dampen again, Mikaela forced herself to look at the sun again, curling her body into a ball, sitting the way she had been a few minutes before. The sparkling moved again, but didn't utter another sound. When Mikaela finally gathered the courage to look at him again, just for a second, she found him sitting only a few feet away from her, legs straight out with his hands on the ground, staring at the sunset with her.

It was almost frightening, to be staring at the sunset with him. The Sparkling couldn't know that he'd done this with her before. Why did he come here?

But despite that, her heart began to work normally, and some of the anger ripping her chest to pieces started to ebb.

She didn't want to hate the sparkling. He truly was the only innocent in this, and the only piece of Sam she could still have. Part of her wanted to get to know him, who he would become.

She just didn't know if she could bring herself to do it.

The two tensed as a car's engine came into hearing, and Mikaela stole a glance at the protoform wondering if he could hide before it came into view. However, when the Sparkling relaxed, she stopped worrying. That probably meant-

A bright yellow Camaro with racing stripes drove up to the lookout, but Mikaela heard the engine cut out long before the car actually stopped, probably an Autobot equivalent of showing shock. It took several agonisingly long moments before Bumblebee chose to transform, and stared at the girl.

"Mikaela," he said. "I'm glad to see you."

Mikaela could only nod, not trusting herself to speak just yet. Bumblebee seemed to realise this, and nodded back.

"Thank you for keeping him company."

Mikaela nodded again, and headed for the Vespa, hearing the chirping of a smug protoform walking towards his current guardian, while Bumblebee's voice took on a disbelieving note.

"You _tunnelled _out? Where did you even come up with the idea for that?"

In reply, the song from 'The Great Escape' filled the air, and Bumblebee slapped his forehead.

"That's it. You aren't allowed to download movies from the Internet without supervision anymore."

"No fair!"

It was such a ridiculous conversation that Mikaela couldn't help but smile. As quietly as she could, she pulled out onto the road and left the two robots behind. Though when she heard the small sparkling call after her, she nearly drove into a tree.

"Bye Mikky!"

* * *

When Mikaela got home, she found a single email left for her, sent by Bumblebee.

**The lookout is popular with people, especially during the summer, and the sparkling knows to hide. But he says he knew he didn't have to when you were there. That he could trust you.**

**Please come see him again, Mikaela. We all miss you.**

**Bumblebee**

**-AND SPARKLING-**

Instinctively, she thought to delete it, but hesitated when she had to confirm. After a few moments, she clicked 'cancel', and closed her inbox.

She could delete it in the morning.

To be continued . . .


	6. Jazz

_Woot! Over 100 reviews. I've only ever succeeded to get that once. Sorry it took so long, but I sort of left the Transformers addiction in order to watch as much Knight Rider as possible (thank you SO much Macx for making a crossover that made me interested in another series TT)._

_Anyway, went through a re-write when I realised the first edition was a little too 'plotty' for right now, and settled on this since everyone seemed to leap onto the 'Mikky' line in the previous chapter (and yes, I do actually have some idea for where I'm going now)._

_R&R_

* * *

"Oh come on, Optimus!" Jazz groaned. "I'm fine! If anything was going to break down it would have done so already. Can't I go out?"

"No, Jazz," Optimus replied, with a tone that suggested this wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation, and was highly unlikely to be the last. "Ratchet's orders. You're not to set foot off this base until the end of the month."

The silver Autobot crossed his arms and muttered something unintelligible. A hand grasped his shoulder, and he looked up at his leader's face.

"Please understand, Jazz. By all means, you should not be here; it's a testament to Ratchet's skills that we succeeded. We just want to make sure that there are no side effects."

Jazz sighed. "I know, don't think I'm not grateful. But I'm going stircrazy cooped up in here!"

An almost smug look crept onto Prime's features.

"Don't worry, Jazz. We've come up with something to keep you entertained."

He turned to the door. "Bring him in, Ironhide."

The door opened, and a human-sized blur bolted in, closely followed by the weapons specialist.

"Jazz!"

Jazz's face lit up, and he crouched down to catch the sparkling.

"Hey, little buddy! How's it hanging?"

The sparkling was already over his leg and heading for his shoulder, ecstatic at the new playmate. Ironhide grinned.

"Given that both of you aren't allowed to leave the base, we thought it might be a good idea to let you get a little more acquainted. He's just finished his daily demolishing so he should be easy enough for you to handle."

Jazz laughed. "It's about time. I was starting to think you were pulling my leg about his existence."

As the two large Autobots left the infirmary, Jazz took a closer look at the protoform currently balancing on his shoulder, inspecting the two ear-like points on his head, and chattering on about ways to get out of the medical bay.

Optimus knew he had a soft spot for sparklings. He'd never really had a chance to directly raise any on Cybertron, as he was constantly working as Optimus' right hand 'bot—not important enough for sparklings to meet, but too important to get any time off. Now he had this little guy to help raise, and he didn't have much baggage as the others when it came to his 'birth.'

* * *

_Jazz didn't remember much surrounding the events of his 'resurrection'. He remembered fighting Megatron, shooting wildly at a target he had no hope of even slowing down, and then his circuits overloading with pain. Every system had shut down in seconds, and there had been the terrible, blinding fall as his Spark ebbed into nothing._

_After that, it was difficult to describe. His memory processors indicated that he'd been in Mission City, and then in the Autobot base, but he distinctly remembered being somewhere…'else' in between. It was hard to describe, but it had been as if he'd been everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Impossible to explain, even more difficult to comprehend. Primus, it had happened to __**him**__ and he couldn't wrap his circuits around it._

_Then, the pain had started again, and the other place had faded like a dream, and he suddenly found himself facing mountains of error messages and one medic's ecstatic face. His memory said he'd tried to crack a joke that wasn't particularly funny, but Ratchet had burst into laughter all the same._

_And then, just as Ratchet had begun shutting down unnecessary systems in order to complete what had eluded him when Jazz had been deceased, his optics caught a tiny figure staring through a sliver of light in the door. At first he thought it had been one of the humans—the size was about right, but the texture and materials he viewed stated otherwise. There was a shout from outside the door, and the figure vanished, fleeing whatever had caught him, but Jazz had smiled as the familiar darkness of shutdown overcame him._

_They'd won, and by the looks of it, they'd saved the Allspark as well._

* * *

It was a few weeks before he was back to full power. He had never realised just how many systems required a spark to tell if they were functioning or not. Ratchet had barely left his side the whole time, and he'd been regularly visited by his comrades during his recovery, but he'd never caught a glimpse of the little sparkling again. Part of him wondered if it was just a glitch in his programs, but it refused to leave him.

And then Optimus had filled him in on what he'd missed at Mission City, including the destruction of the of the Allspark, which completely threw him. Where had the Protoform come from?

Finally, his curiosity couldn't take it any longer, and when everyone but Bumblebee was visiting him, he popped the question.

"So when do I meet the little guy?"

The silence could have been cut with a knife.

"Come on, guys. I know I saw him when I woke up. Why are you hiding him?"

Finally, with reluctance, Optimus sighed.

"Jazz, there's something we haven't told you. About five months ago, there was an accident."

The Pontiac frowned. "What kind of accident?"

"Do you remember what we said about Sam Witwicky?"

* * *

It took a couple of explanations, and a couple of harrowing visuals, but eventually Jazz had the full story. Even so, it was hard to wrap his head around. The notion of an organic becoming an Autobot…it was unbelievable. And more than a little bizarre.

And now that he was actually seeing him in all his mechanical glory, it was still hard to take in. He hadn't exactly spent a lot of time with the Witwicky kid, the others had only really gotten to know him after the fight was over in the weeks before the accident, but it had to be eating Bumblebee up – his attachment to Sam had been obvious when they'd first arrived.

All in all, he was almost glad that he'd been out of commission when it happened. He hadn't gotten to know who he had been, and he had no reason to expect any familiarity. Which really put him in a great position when it came to teaching the little guy.

"Okay, okay, okay" he interrupted, stopping the '100 greatest ways to get out without anyone noticing' explanation mid-way. "How's your English? Aint you got the programs written down yet?"

The Protoform shook his head. "Hard. Get stuck with long words."

"How long."

"Op-mus, Bee, bot."

Jazz nodded. "Get stuck after two syllables huh?"

A nod.

"Ah that's okay little buddy, actions speak louder than words. What do you know about break dancing?"

* * *

From what he understood of raising organics, their minds were completely blank at birth, and they learned as they went through life. Cybertronians worked a little differently, in that they effectively downloaded everything they would ever require as sparklings, and then had their processor write the programs they needed in order to use the information. It normally took at least a century in human terms to do it on Cybertron – the amount of information their world offered was almost too much for sparklings. Their sparkling didn't have that problem: the only information downloading he needed to do was through the Internet and whatever he could gleam from the other Autobots, so his growth was at a ridiculously fast pace.

Unfortunately, his processor wasn't prepared for such fast growth, so it kept on stumbling to keep up. The Sparkling knew what he wanted to say, but physically couldn't do it. And as Ratchet wouldn't touch a Sparkling's processor if his spark depended on it, it would probably take a while before the Sparkling could fix whatever he was struggling with.

However, it was the general belief that the sooner the sparkling learned English, the better it was for him. So no Cybertronian, just the human language. And since Jazz was in the same boat base-wise as the Sparkling, he was on babysitting/teaching duty until further notice. If he hadn't know any better, he'd say Bumblebee was almost jealous that the job had been taken from him. Not that he was complaining, he was getting very attached to the Sparkling; he was starting to be a damn good street dancer.

So attached, in fact, that once Jazz was finally given the okay by Ratchet to be let out of the base, it really shouldn't have surprised them that he turned off all communications and vanished with the sparkling in tow.

* * *

"So this is the lookout you don't shut up about."

"Yep."

Once the sparkling was out on the ground, Jazz transformed and took a look around. They'd come at night, so the view wasn't as clear, but he couldn't really see anything spectacular about the place.

"So why do you like it here so much? Can't say much for the view."

The Sparkling was already sitting on the edge of the cliff. "Better in day."

Jazz crossed his arms, staring out. "That can't be the only reason, little guy. From what Bumblebee tells me you're almost obsessed with this place."

The Sparkling didn't answer, and Jazz looked down to see a rather sneaky expression on the –protoform's face.

"Secret. You like it?"

Jazz shrugged. "It ain't really my kind of place. I prefer a little more action, if you know what I mean."

The Sparkling laughed. "You look at it better."

The Pontiac frowned. "Whadd'ya mean?"

"Bee, Op-mus…look sad when they come. Like at me at start."

"Look…sad?"

The sparkling nodded. "Bots looked at me sad. Don't now, but did. Will and Mikky look sad. You always happy to see me."

Jazz froze at the sparkling's next line.

"You don't look for Sam in me."

Well, wasn't that a kick in the rear? As far as Jazz had been aware, the group had been trying to keep the nature of the sparkling's 'birth' as secret as possible from him until they felt he could best comprehend it. It had been one of the few things that Optimus had ordered him not to mention to the sparkling.

Right now, said sparkling was looking at him, apparently waiting for an answer, and Jazz struggled to come up with a reply. Did he play dumb? Did he ask how the Sparkling knew?

Eventually, he decided on a simple sentence in reply.

"I didn't know Sam."

The Sparkling nodded. "That's why I like you. My friend, not his."

Jazz sighed, and sat down beside the Sparkling. "How did you even know? The others told me you hadn't been told yet."

The Protoform shrugged. "Just do. Always knew, but did not…"

He struggled with the final word, but Jazz had a feeling he knew what he meant to say.

"Didn't fully understand?"

The protoform nodded in relief. "Yes."

Jazz sighed, and stared out at the darkness. "Do you remember anything?"

"No. Just that this," the sparkling tapped his chest, "was his."

"When are you going to tell the others?"

"Never."

He looked down at a grinning face.

"Might make them sad again."

Jazz smiled.

"I see your point. This'll be our little secret."

The sparkling nodded.

"Okay."

_To be continued..._


	7. Simmons

_VERY short, non-emotional chapter put in solely to add a little bit of plot for later. I did intend to leave it until after Will's chapter, but thanks to Dierdre's recent fanfic, I had Simmons on the mind. Enjoy._

* * *

"Sir, with all due respect, you're an idiot!"

Banacheck slapped his forehead as Simmons paled, frozen over the Secretary of Defence's desk. John Keller, to his credit, merely thinned his lips and leaned back in his chair.

"Simmons, you are already on a short leash. I'll let that one slide, but I don't want to hear another word about this."

"Mr Secretary," Banachek said as Simmons backed off, "I admit that Simmons is somewhat high strung about this, but you must see our point. We can't just leave the situation undocumented."

Keller leaned forward, elbows on the desk, leaving his hands to support his chin. "I've already gone over the medical reports and the transformation process with Optimus Prime and his medic. As far as they can tell this was a freak occurrence due to Sam Witwicky's actions in Mission City. I see no need to research the incident further."

Simmons was visibly shaking, and only a sharp elbow jab from Banachek kept him from blowing up again.

"With all due respect _sir,_" he continued, "I would prefer to do our own tests. You might be ready to trust those bombs-on-wheels, but I'm not that gullible. They ripped their own world to pieces and now they've come here, and what do you know, a 'freak accident' results in a boy they're quite fond of turning into one of **them**. Am I the only one who is just a little suspicious of that?"

The former Sector Seven agent started to pace. "Think about it. The kid was searched over by military medics after the Mission City fiasco, and they didn't spot any kind of 'spark', so it was obviously undetectable until it was too late. So how can they prove that it was the cube's destruction that got the thing stuck in there? They can't."

Keller frowned. "What are you suggesting, Simmons?"

"What if this is all just some big ploy? What if that cube did something to everyone that came in contact with it, and the Wickity-"

"Witwicky," Banacheck corrected.

"Whatever! The kid was just a test to see if it worked. They're fighting a war, they're apparently losing, and they want a new planet of soldiers. All they need to do is wait until enough of us have these sparks, and then go wild. Instant army. Hell, for all we know, the things could be passed down genetically! Give it a couple of centuries; the entire planet could be infected! It's not like they don't have to time to wait!"

By the end of his rant, Simmons was in fully energised, arms waving and body shaking. Secretary Keller didn't look too impressed.

"Simmons, that's quite a leap. Do you have any evidence to prove this? Anything at all, other than your paranoia?"

Simmons was in his face in seconds.

"Witwicky's the key, sir. I _know _it. If we could just run a few tests, see how his body differs to that of data from NBE-1 and to that of a human. Analyse that energy within him. If I'm right, I'd have all the evidence I'd need within a week."

To his dismay, Keller shook his head. "Denied, Simmons. Even if I thought this theory of yours had any merit, Optimus has made it very clear that the treaties won't be worth the paper they're written on if any of his men, especially Sam, or 'sparkling' as they're currently calling him, are experimented on. They're still rather sore about the situation with the one they call Bumblebee."

"Isn't that suspicious enough?" Simmons snapped. "We could let them watch. Keep it passive! Prove it wont hurt him! Why be so paranoid?"

Privately, Banachek could understand. According to the information he'd researched, Sam, or 'sparkling' as he was known now, had the mental equivalent of a five year old. He had kids, and he wouldn't let them anywhere near the tests Simmons probably had in mind.

Apparently, Keller felt the same way. "No is no, Simmons. I don't want to hear another thing about it."

"But-"

"You're dismissed, Simmons. And you too Banachek."

* * *

"How did that man get that position?"

Simmons was storming down the corridor so fast Banachek was having trouble keeping up.

"They're aliens that ripped apart half a city, damaged a freeway and caused damage to government property. But it's okay, because they're the _good_ aliens, and we're going to let them bring more of their friends here so they can keep fighting this war of theirs."

He made a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a scream. "And to think, people have enough trouble handling the war in Iraq. If they knew about all this we'd have anarchy!"

"I think that was kind of the whole point of it being classified," Banachek snapped. "Look: you've made your case, it failed." He patted his partner's back. "You're just going to have to accept that if there's more going on here than those aliens say, we just can't prove it right now. I'll catch up with you later."

Simmons's hands clenched as Banachek headed down the corridor. Banachek was a good partner, and a good friend, but he had no idea how humiliating this was. Sector Seven had been his life, his family's heritage, and now, his generation had been coined down to pencil-pushing treaty keeper.

It was **not** going to end like this. If things were going to end with him, then he was going out with a bang.

He headed for the door, pulling out his mobile and pushing in a number from memory. If he couldn't go about this the legal way, he was more than willing to go under a few heads.

"I've got a job for you. It'll require several weeks of surveillance and an extremely dangerous capture. And we're going to need a safe room, capable of hiding electrical and energy readings.

Oh, and lots and lots of liquid nitrogen."

To be continued . . .

* * *

_Next chapter, it's Will's turn, and I get to write automatic fluff thanks to the addition of Annabelle (and Mikaela may show up again)._


	8. Will

_I wanted to have this up before I went to see Transformers at the IMAX, but it just didn't come. Haven't had this much trouble with a chapter since Ironhide..._

_H'okay, nobody seems to be sure just how old baby Lennox is in the movie, but since she had her first laugh, I figure she's about 3 months. Add about a month before this story started, and the six months the story progressed over, and that makes her ten months old.

* * *

_

**Will**

Will Lennox took one hand off the wheel and rapped the metal hand approaching the radio dial, forcing it away.

"Ah ah, don't touch the radio," he warned, seeing the arm retreat back into the backseat. "I like this song."

The sparkling muttered something in Cybertronian and moved out of sight, probably lying across the seats.

"I heard that, Sparkling," Ironhide rumbled, though there was no real malice in his tone. "Remember, you're the one that promised to behave if we took you with us."

Will couldn't keep a grin off his face as he remembered the scene from only a few hours ago. He'd stopped by to exchange information collected by various government organisations 'in the know,' and had just been about ready to get a lift back home with Ironhide, when Bumblebee had contacted Optimus. The Camaro had been scouting an air base and had a positive mark on Starscream, the first they'd had since they'd managed to catch him re-entering the atmosphere. The Autobots had immediately rolled into action, but two obvious problems had arisen. One, Will still needed to get home, and two, somebody still had to keep an eye on the sparkling. Will was willing to wait, but they weren't entirely sure the human could handle the sparkling alone, given that he was stronger and faster than the army captain, and would still be full of energy long after Will 'gave up'.

Optimus had to go, that was a given, and even outnumbered four to one, Starscream was no pushover, so Ratchet had to go in case of medical emergency. That left Jazz and Ironhide. Jazz was desperate to get back into action after (as far as he was concerned) a far too long leave-of-absence, and Ironhide never passed up a chance to cause physical harm to Decepticons.

Eventually, Will had convinced them to toss a coin on it. Ironhide lost (although not gracefully, given that it took five out seven throws before he finally admitted defeat), and the three had been left at the base with a promise to return in several hours.

With Ironhide watching him like a hawk, the sparkling hadn't even tried to wear him out, instead joining Will on a couch, one of the few human-sized objects supplied for small number of visitors the Autobots did get. He had sat down just as Will's mobile had gone off. It was Sarah, wanting to know when he was coming back, and Will had explained that, despite Ironhide still being at the base, they couldn't leave the sparkling alone in fear that he would get out and create the Tranquillity urban myth of 'robot boy'.

"Well, why don't you bring him along with you?" Sarah had replied.

"Uh, I'm not sure that's-"

Will's reply was snapped to pieces when the sparkling, who had apparently been listening intently, rocketed straight to Will's side, clambering over a good part of the Captains body in order to shriek "yeahyeahyeahyeahyeah" into the mobile.

Ironhide had been against it at first, but Sarah had sounded delighted at the prospect of finally meeting the infant Autobot her husband kept mentioning, and he'd crumbled. His wife had the weapon's specialist wrapped around her little finger; if it wasn't for the fact that Ironhide was a metallic alien, Will would almost have been worried.

* * *

The truck pulled into the dusty road, and the Sparkling leapt up from the seats to stare at the house coming into view.

"Remember, Sparkling," Ironhide warned. "Behave. And don't scare Annabelle."

The sparkling nodded furiously, and Ironhide rolled to a stop, letting both passengers out as a blonde woman walked out the door holding a baby in her arms. Will was immediately at his wife's side, holding his little bundle of joy with absolute adoration.

"Every time I so much as blink she gets bigger!" he exclaimed, grinning back at the beaming face. "One of these days I'm going to come back and she'll be bigger than me!"

It was a few seconds before Ironhide realised that the sparkling hadn't actually left his side, choosing to hide behind his open door. He chuckled and forced it shut, exacting a yelp from the smaller Autobot before transforming and looking down at him.

"It's not like you to be nervous. She doesn't bite."

Well, that wasn't completely true. Annabelle had started teething a while back, but he had a feeling that that fact wouldn't be the best thing to bring up.

The Sparkling inched back behind Ironhide's leg, keeping on eye on the Lennoxes, who by now had noticed the lack of infant Autobot.

"Looks strange."

"And they're probably thinking the exact same thing about you." He moved his foot, nudging the Sparkling forward, and getting a squeak in protest.

It could have gone on like that for hours but, noticing the Sparkling's reluctance, Sarah took Annabelle back from Will, and walked over.

"Good to see you again, Ironhide," she greeted. "How have you been?"

Annabelle smiled and lifted her hands up. "Tyuk."

"Truck, Anna," Sarah corrected. "Ironhide is a 'truck'."

"Tyuk."

"Technically," Ironhide replied with a grunt, "the correct term would be Autobot."

Will grinned. "I think that's a little beyond her capabilities just now, Ironhide."

Sarah moved until she was only a few feet from the sparkling, supported Annabelle with one hand, and held out the other.

"It's nice to meet you, Sparkling."

Slowly, the Sparkling stretched out his own hand, and he shook Sarah's with a gentle grip, matching her smile. When the grip loosened, Sarah took Annabelle back into a two handed hold, and kept her in front of the sparkling.

"Annabelle, this is Sparkling, Ironhide's Autobot friend. Sparkling, this is Annabelle."

Annbelle, apparently used to large mechanical beings after regular contact with Ironhide, clearly wasn't as nervous as the sparkling, and held out both her hands with a large grin on her face.

"Ahdubuh."

"Autobot," Sarah corrected, and smiled at the three watching with amusement. "She's getting there, I think."

Will laughed and wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders. "Shall we go round the back? I think the neighbours might start to catch on if we stay out here much longer."

* * *

Regardless of Will and Ironhide's assurances, Sarah couldn't help but keep an eye on her baby who was currently crawling around on the lawn the sparkling following in complete rapture.

"Are you sure they'll be okay?"

"I promise you, Sarah Lennox," Ironhide replied. "The sparkling wouldn't harm a hair on her head, and he certainly won't let her come to any harm."

Will was grinning at the scene. "He does seem to be fascinated by her, doesn't he? Wish I had a camera."

"I wish we could have borrowed her when the sparkling was younger," Ironhide rumbled. "This is the longest I've been able to keep my optics off him without fear of him bolting."

Sarah chuckled. "We'll have to prepare for that soon. The terrible twos are almost here. Just wait until she learns to walk."

"Well, we may finally be at the end," Ironhide replied. "Ratchet thinks he should be able to take an alternate form within the next month, and then we won't have to keep such a harsh eye on him."

"Any ideas what form he's going to take?"

"We're thinking some form of bike. His form is a little small, but we think he can accommodate the extra space."

Will grinned. "A motorbike with no driver? Isn't that going to be just as obvious as a protoform?"

"We'll be teaching him the basics of holographic projectors as soon as he scans a form."

Sarah noticed Annabelle heading a little close to the edge of the grass, and walked out to warn the two otherwise, leaving Will on the porch while Ironhide stood next to the house.

"So…holographic projector? Think it'll look like Sam, or…"

"I honestly have no idea. Logically, there would be no reason for it. He should know very little about Sam right now, but he has a habit of surprising us."

"I kind of hope he does, but at the same time, probably better if he didn't. Mikaela might not react well to it, and I hear she's started coming to the base recently."

"A few times," Ironhide admitted. "Not for very long, but she does seem to be handling the situation better."

The Autobot turned to look back at the scene on the grass. Sarah had brought the sparkling and Annabelle back to the centre of the grass, and now the protoform was sitting down, holding Annabelle in his arms while Sarah showed him how to hold her correctly. The muffled snicker from Will told Ironhide that the out-of-his-depth quality to the sparkling's expression wasn't just humorous to him.

"I must admit, you adapted to the situation far better than Mikaela. You don't have issues with the sparkling's situation?"

Will's eyes darted to the black form, who refused to meet his gaze, before sighing. "I won't pretend that it wasn't a little unnerving at the beginning. I'm not a philosopher, and I'm not religious, but the implications were…frightening."

He shrugged. "And then I saw him with Bumblebee one day, and remembered something Sarah told me just before that Decepticon attacked my base about Annabelle. That she had my laugh."

A wistful smile graced his face. "Never met me, but she had my laugh, good ol' genetics shining through. If I died the next time I pulled out, my baby girl would have that little bit of me in her.

"I think that's just how I see the Sparkling. He's not Sam, he's…more like Sam's son. He's got those little bits of code in him that keep you all unnerved, but it's not what makes him himself."

Ironhide rumbled. "I'm impressed. That's not something I expected."

"Hey, maybe if I can get Mikaela to see it that way, she'll be able to let go completely."

Ironhide was about to reply, when a shriek hit his ears.

"Hide! Hide!"

The Sparkling was running over, the baby now in Sarah's arms; she was following at a slower pace. The black Autobot knelt down as the Sparkling reached him and leapt onto his arm, clearly ecstatic.

"What is it, runt?"

He pointed to Sarah or, more specifically, the child in her arms.

"An-ah-bell. Annabelle! Ironhide. Optimus."

Ironhide's eyes widened. "You finally solved that speech problem? How?"

"Watch, watch!"

He leapt off as Sarah reached them, took one of Annabelle's hands, and pointed it towards the weapons specialist. "Who is that? Who?"

Annabelle smiled, other hand joining the one being held up.

"Eyunhide."

Will lit up and started to clap. "That's my girl. He's Ironhide!"

"Well, it's a step up from 'tyuk'" Ironhide agreed, a smile on his face. "Good job."

Sarah smiled. "I think the two of them could be teachers. They're very good for each other."

"Months of trying to get him to master English, and my baby girl solves the problem in ten minutes" Will chuckled. "There's a lesson in there somewhere."

The sparkling wasn't paying any attention though, holding out his arms to hold Annabelle again, sitting down where he stood when Sarah complied, playing with Annabelle's arms and watching her hands wrap around the smaller parts of his armour.

"They've definitely bonded," Sarah added, looking down at the pair. "You have to bring him again."

"I think we can arrange that."

Suddenly, Ironhide jerked, his inner communications coming online. Within a few moments, he came back to reality, and shook his head.

"Okay, runt, we better head back. Optimus and the others are heading back, and Ratchet will probably need some less-exhausted help."

"Was the mission a success?" Will asked.

"Negative. Starscream managed to escape, though he's certainly no longer functioning at his best capabilities. We'll need to keep a close eye on the air force bases in the general area."

"Right. I'll see if I can't get Epps to check out any new F-22s in need of repairs."

"It would be appreciated. Come on, Sparkling, give back your new friend."

The Sparkling merely held Annabelle tighter. "Can't I keep her?"

"No."

"If she follows me home?"

This time, Will and Sarah answered in unison.

"Don't even think about it."

"Aww…"

_To be continued . . .

* * *

_

And that's pretty much all of the character profiles, but I still have a ways to go. Next chapter, our little sparkling finally gets himself an alt. mode, and Jazz is **not** happy...


	9. Sparkling

No doubt all of you will latch onto the minor foreshadowing I've slammed into this. Enjoy

* * *

**Sparkling**

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF PRIMUS ALMIGHTY HAVE YOU DONE TO HIM?"

"It wasn't my fault," Mikaela said defensively. "You're the ones that keep letting him get out. Haven't you child-proofed this place yet?"

"Jazz," Optimus began, trying to soothe his clearly irate second. "I don't see the problem. We always agreed that the sparkling could choose his own alternate mode so long as it was practical, and he has done so."

Jazz however, merely used the distraction to round on his leader.

"Optimus, in the name of decency, respect, and above all, STYLE, there is no way we can let him out looking like that."

Ironhide, who was standing a good several feet away from the three with the sparkling and the other Autobots, shook his head at the argument. "Listen to him. You'd think the runt had come back as a tricycle. With an 'I heart Megatron' bumper sticker."

Bumblebee laughed, Crouching down by the sparkling, who was in his new vehicle mode, down by his feet. "You know Jazz, he always wants the best for us. Primus knows what he would have done if he'd seen my original alternate mode."

"Dragged you to the nearest showroom and kept you there until you changed your mind?" Ratchet supplied, a grin on his face.

Mikaela, clearly not in the mood to argue abut this any further, began to walk off while Jazz continued to yell, and the Sparkling's wheels spun, coasting over to her side.

"Look, Jazz," she finished. "I'm sorry you feel that way, but he was the one who scanned it. And then blew up the original, which by the way, you guys will be paying for, so I had to use him."

She turned to the two-wheeled vehicle beside her. "Besides, I guess it does looks cute."

The little blue Vespa revved in satisfaction.

* * *

It really had been more or less been an accident, brought on by the sparkling's determination to show off. He'd gone to the lookout, only to find Mikaela was there again. The girl was slowly becoming a more familiar face around the Autobot base, having brought herself to visit on a few occasions, and every now and then could be found at the lookout keeping the Sparkling company.

"Mik-ay-lah! Mik-ay-lah" he'd sing-songed, slumping into a sitting position by her side.

Mikaela smiled. "Been a while since I've seen you here. I was starting to think Bumblebee and the others had locked you up."

The Sparkling sighed in apparent exasperation. "Getting really hard. Ideas don't work anymore. Someone always catches me."

He grinned at the girl beside him. "I had to beg Jazz to let me out. Bumblebee going to be mad at him."

"Guess that means they've gotten used to it," Mikaela replies. "You may eventually have to accept defeat…"

"Never!" the Sparkling half laughed, half yelled. "Needed to get out today. Needed to."

Mikaela frowned, noticing for the first time that the sparkling was visibly shaking, like an over-excited child.

"Don't know. Feel weird. Should be doing something, but don't know what." The sparkling stood up, and started to pace. "Thought I'd understand if I came here. I learn more here."

Mikaela stood up, brushing the dust off her jeans to look eye to eye with the bot. "You 'learn more?'"

The Sparkling nodded. "Program in my head. Gets stronger when I come here."

He growled, hands holding his head similar to how he'd seen Will and Mikaela show their frustration. "But it's not working. Not working, still don't-"

He stopped abruptly, his eyes focusing on something. Slowly, Mikaela followed his line of site, just in time to see a small white light scan her blue Vespa scooter.

"Wait, you're-"

There was a melody of shifting metal parts, and she swung her attention back to the Sparkling, only to see an identical Vespa, its engine revving. Its wheels spun, and it began driving around Mikaela in circles.

"Transformation! I must have completed the sequencing program today!"

In excitement, he jerked up to continue his circling in a wheelie, before leaping up and shifting into a mass of blue and black metal that clamped around Mikaela's waist.

"Ride me home! Ride me home!" he shrieked.

Oh that phrase brought up memories she didn't want to think about just yet. Carefully, she pried the sparkling's arms off her waist and backed up a few feet.

"I'm sorry" she began. "But maybe you should wait a while before taking…um…any passengers. You did just figure out how to do it."

The sparkling's face fell. "But I have to learn!" he argued. "What the point of having vehicle mode if I can't use it?"

"Really, I'm sorry but-"

A brainwave.

"But I've already got my scooter. I can't just leave it here. I promise, we can do it anoth-"

She stopped as the Sparkling's hand morphed into a gun, and let off a round straight into the blue scooter. It crumpled like a paper bag, flying into the air and rolled over three times before skittering to a painful stop.

Mikaela's mouth dropped in horror at the wreck, while the Sparkling returned the gun back to his hand.

"No problem. Now you can ride me."

Mikaela screamed.

* * *

"We _are_ sorry, Mikaela"

When the story had been fully explained, Optimus had picked up the Sparkling, forcing him to transform, stating that he would deal with this, and had asked Bumblebee to take Mikaela home.

In the passenger seat of the Camaro, Mikaela merely closed her eyes and leaned her head back. "Don't apologise, get Ratchet to fix my Vespa. I _need_ it."

"I promise I will pick it up on my way back. Please don't feel too angry at the sparkling. He probably doesn't realise that he did anything wrong."

Mikaela glared at the empty driver's seat, unsure if Bumblebee could see it or not, althoug the gesture her feel better all the same. "He _blew_ my Vespa _up._ How could he not see that as 'wrong?'"

"Until now, the Sparkling has only ever blown up the base and rocks," Bumblebee explained. "We had assumed that that was adequate for him and he wouldn't require any more detail on what he is and isn't allowed to attack until weapon training."

"Well that was clearly a _stellar_ idea," Mikaela snapped.

"Yes," Bumblebee admitted. "It was somewhat lacking in foresight, but Optimus will be making sure it never happens again. We really are sorry, Mikaela."

If Mikaela heard the word 'sorry' one more time, she was going to get out and walk.

"I guess part of me can understand," she replied. "I mean, he's spent all this time having to run and hide in order to get some freedom, and now that he's figured out how to 'hide in plain sight, it turns out he needs to master something else on top of it. If it were me, I'd be itching to try it out immediately. I'm just annoyed at how it all went."

Finally, Bumblebee pulled into her street, and a small wave sent the yellow Camaro back to his base.

* * *

That had gone better than Bumblebee had expected.

Mikaela had definitely begun to thaw after her first meeting with the sparkling, but it was difficult to say just what she could and couldn't take, meaning that the Autobots had to take care not to damage the friendship she was finally beginning to rethread. This disaster with the Vespa could have sent her running for good.

However, rather than cutting ties completely, she had driven the sparkling back to the base (after yelling at him rather furiously, if the sparkling's whimpering had been any indication), to yell at the Autobots for the situation. It wasn't the greatest scenario, but it did show improvement.

The Camaro picked up speed and activated his hologram. His vehicle mode rarely needed a driver: most didn't notice a lack of someone at the wheel, especially when it was getting dark, but he had a feeling he could use the practise. The more up to date with it he was, the more useful it would be in teaching the Sparkling. Jazz had more or less taken over the role of babysitter recently, but at least Bumblebee could try and spend some more time with him through this.

If nothing else, once Optimus was finished with him, perhaps he could go out for a drive with the sparkling around the base, to see just what he was capable of in the new mode.

However, when he arrived back at the base, he found Optimus rubbing the bridge of his nose, clearly irritated at something, and if Bumblebee didn't know better he could have sworn he heard Ratchet and Ironhide sniggering in the other room.

"Optimus?" he asked, transforming and walking up to his leader. walking fully into the base. "What's wrong?"

His commander let out a long-suffering sigh. "Jazz turned off his communications again. And he took the sparkling with him."

Bumblebee was a pretty easygoing Autobot most of the time, and loyal to a fault. But sometimes, he _really_ wanted to make the second-in-command hurt.

"Just where would they go at this time of night!?"

* * *

"Okay, little buddy, take a good look."

"Jazz…" Sparkling moaned.

"I'm serious, buddy," Jazz replied. "You aint leaving here until you scan the one you like the best, so start looking."

Jazz hadn't quite realised just how lacking in motorcycle showrooms Tranquility was. They'd had to drive past 2 towns just to find this one. Thankfully it was Primus-sent, filled with wheel upon wheel of polished vehicle excellence. Now if he could just get the sparkling to see it that way.

The little Autobot, however, didn't seem all too thrilled with giving up his new mode. He'd come along with Jazz mainly because the Pontiac had activated an external hologram on the sparkling's seat, allowing him to hurtle down the streets without fear of causing a scene. Right now, however, he was sitting on Jazz's shoulders, looking in the glass window, barely glancing at the machines inside.

"Come on," Jazz urged. "There's got to be something in there that you like."

"I like this one…"

"Hey now, I know you have more taste than that. If you want to stay a scooter, that's fine, they're in the corner over there, but at least pick something a little more…new? At least buff out the rust marks."

The sparkling sighed, and ran a scan of the room again. Despite what he might be telling Jazz, he liked a lot of the bikes in the showroom, but there was something else keeping him back.

"Liking not a problem. All of me has to like it, and all of me doesn't like any."

"All of you?" Jazz repeated. "What do you mean, all of you? You either like something or you don't."

But the Sparkling shook his head. "Program in my head doesn't like them, and it's never wrong. Doesn't like the Vespa either, but it was my first one, and Mikaela likes it."

Beneath his visor, Jazz's eyes narrowed. There was something very wrong with that statement.

"What program interferes with…"

He trailed off as the Sparkling gasped, and stilled on his shoulders. They had a winner.

* * *

Mikaela had been dead to the world when her mobile went off at a vicious pitch. Murmuring something unintelligible, she grabbed it only to turn it off and roll over back to sleep. It was only when the mobile somehow managed to ring again that she bothered to grab it and answer.

"H'wow is it?" she mumbled.

"Hey, little lady," Jazz's far-too-cheerful-for-this-time-of-night voice chimed. "Look out your window."

"Jazz…" she growled.

"Look, I promise it's worth it."

The call ended, and despite everything, Mikaela found herself crawling over her bed to look out of the glass. A silver Pontiac Solstice was in her street, and next to it…

Her eyes widened, sleep deprivation gone, and she hurried down the stairs in the dark.

"Now that's just beautiful."

She didn't know the make of the bike, but the bright red motorcycle with a white seat and decorative white stripe going down the sides and the centre of its front hood was stunning. Within seconds, both Autobots had returned to their true forms, and Mikaela caught site of the sparkling's beaming face. One wheel was on his back, and the other, through means beyond her, had actually split itself in two, the halves carried on his upper legs.

"It's the 2007 Ducati 1098 Superbike," he supplied. "I added the stripes myself. Like Bumblebee."

The side mirrors had arranged themselves to be on the back of his head, hanging down near his neck, and Mikaela couldn't suppress a grin when she realised they were moving around, twitching like an inquisitive puppies.

She nodded in approval. "Nice choice. Love the 'ears'."

The Sparkling grabbed the mirrors and whined, which only caused Mikaela to laugh.

"Its not funny" he mumbled. "The only other place they will go is on top of head, and then I look like a bunny."

Jazz swooped one hand over his own 'ears' in a cheesy old movie way. "Sorry lil' buddy, but you just don't have the face for ears."

The sparkling muttered something in Cybertronian, and ignoring the 'don't let Ratchet or Bumblebee catch you saying that' he got from Jazz, stared at Mikaela.

"I'm sorry I broke your bike" he said, head downcast. "I promise I will help Ratchet fix it."

Mikaela smiled, and wrapped her arms around herself; she was starting to feel the cold. "That's okay, just as long as you don't do it again."

Jazz nodded and, clearly satisfied that the sparkling had done what needed to be done, shifted back to his vehicle mode.

"We'd better get back, lil'buddy. They're gonna be real mad with us back home."

"Mad with you" Sparkling amended, shifting back into the Ducati and allowing Jazz to activate the external hologram. "They already mad with me."

As the two hit the main street, Jazz reactivated his communications, but only enough that he could transmit and not receive. No doubt the others wouldn't let him get a word in edgewise if he didn't say his piece first and foremost.

"We're coming back in, Optimus," he began. "Got the spar…no…got the **y****oungling **a better alt. mode."

By his side, the bike swerved suddenly, shocked by the news.

"_Really_?"

Jazz laughed. "Lil' buddy, you've mastered the native language, got yourself a snazzy alt. mode, and are weeks away from being thrown into weapon training with Ironhide. I think it's safe to say that calling you a sparkling is insulting by now."

The youngling's motor revved, and the Ducati leapt onto one wheel, spinning around a couple of times before shooting off into the distance. Jazz immediately gave chase…and closed his communications again.

Optimus and the others could yell at him when he arrived at the base.

**To be continued . . .

* * *

**

_Up until this chapter was written, I was STILL trying to decide what the Sparkling/Youngling's alternate mode was going to be. It ended up being a toss up between the Ducati (which is beautiful), and a Kawasaki Ninja (which is just as gorgeous, but looked a little more bulky to me, and thus wasn't the one that made the cut)._

_But seriously, every time I saw a motorbike in the street I had to stop/cross the street/chase after it to find out what make it was. Turns out a lot of people in my town ride Suzuki's, but I never found anything I liked more than those two._

_Anyway, next chapter, the Autobots all go to the lookout to celebrate the Youngling's new stage of life and his new vehicle mode, and the Sparkling finally reveals just why he likes the lookout so much._


	10. Youngling

_Can you believe today I saw a bike that was even prettier than the Ducati? It was an Aprilia, and SO much closer to a believable size for the Sparkling. Course the driver wasn't too happy since he'd lost his grip and the thing went crashing to the ground, but still, beautiful bike _

_Anyway, the fluff, regular humour and general cuteness are taking a backseat while I'm back to the angst again. And be prepared, its probably going to be coming in crate loads until the end.

* * *

_

**Fragment **

"Puppy dog ears?"

Mikaela chuckled at the disbelief on Will's face. "I'm telling the truth. They prick up whenever he's happy. It's adorable."

"Probably a good thing I didn't bring Annabelle. She'd have grabbed on and never let go."

The two were heading to the lookout, after Optimus had contacted them at their (the?) youngling's request. It was the first time all of the Autobots and both of their closest human allies would be there together. Some had hoped to spend the time doing something a little more exciting (Jazz had found an excellent race track with poor security well within an hour's drive), but the youngling had put his foot down. He wanted the lookout, so he was getting the lookout.

Will slipped his car through the 'road closed' barriers (prepared in advance by the Autobots, given that their combined presence at the popular area usually caused a stir, and meant they were constantly having to transform in and out of their vehicles modes), and honked a few times before he pulled into the sunny cliff top. Sure enough, all six Autobots were already there, and a red and white blur leapt off Bumblebee's shoulder to greet them.

"Mikaela! Will!"

Will braced himself as the blur grabbed him, Spinning around him in delight. With the new armour buffing up the protoform, the youngling was a little taller than he was.

Blue optics swung round from behind him, filled with disappointment. "No Annabelle?"

"No Annabelle," Will replied. "She's sleeping."

Only his intense military training kept him from snickering as the mirrors drooped. Damn, if they made a toy of him, they'd make a killing.

"It's good to see you Captain Lennox, Mikaela," Optimus greeted, as the two leaned on the hood of Will's car, while the youngling leapt back onto Bumblebee's shoulder. "How are your wife and daughter, Will?"

"They're fine. Annabelle keeps asking for her Ahdubuh, and I think Sarah could use a night's uninterrupted sleep, but otherwise they can't complain. How are things on your end?"

Optimus chuckled. "Somewhat hectic. After the incident with Mikaela's bike, the youngling has been bent on learning how to master his holographic projectors."

Ironhide, overhearing the conversation, groaned at the memory. "We haven't been able to find time to recharge; he's on us the second we relieve ourselves of any duty. And he doesn't take no for an answer..."

"Ironhide's holographics are not his…best ability," Optimus explained to a bemused Will. "But Ratchet has managed to get his processor around the basics, and Jazz and Bumblebee are working on getting him fully functional within the month. Perhaps then we can, as humans say, 'let him off his leash'."

* * *

That was how they spent the late afternoon, with simple small talk and the pleasant happiness that was knowing that they had time to spare, with no threat of battle or danger. Their youngest member often added his own two cents whenever a story he knew came up, but for most of the afternoon, he was found on various shoulders, often staring up at the sky. When it began to tinge orange, he abandoned all conversation, and sat down on the grass to watch the sun's slow fall. Eventually, he was joined by Mikaela and the Autobots, while Will leaned back on the hood of his own car.

Due to her closeness, Mikaela noticed the youngling's actions first. Every now and then his optics would dim, only to brighten with a full body twitch. He would blink a lot, and almost looked as if he had a headache.

Ratchet eventually noticed and decided to intervene when the Youngling brought a hand to his head, either searching for loose parts or merely trying to suppress the pain he was feeling.

"All right, Youngling, front and centre."

The youngling looked up, brought out of his daze by the yellow Autobot, cocking his head in confusion.

"Don't give me that look. Something in your circuitry is causing you to suffer, and the sooner I scan and locate it, the faster you can go back to looking at your sunset."

To his surprise, the youngling merely shook his head, and scooted back a bit. When Ratchet walked forward, intending to perform the scan anyway, the young Autobot leapt to his feet, darting past Bumblebee and jumping onto Jazz's shoulders. The action spoke volumes to the silver Autobot, given that Bumblebee was far more the youngling's 'protector' than he was.

"It fine" The youngling urged. "No problem."

Ratchet turned to Optimus in exasperation, and his leader looked at the small form on his second-in-command's shoulders.

"Youngling," he warned, in a tone that left no room for argument. "Unless you want to cut your time here short, you **will** let Ratchet scan you."

The youngling let out a groan that sounded similar to a juice mixer, and slowly inched himself off of Jazz's shoulder, kicking the ground in annoyance. By this time, even Will had sat up to watch the show, not too surprised at the Ducati's reluctance.

'_Guess even alien kids hate the doctor,'_ he thought to himself, remembering Annabelle's last check-up. His baby girl had quite a pair of lungs. '_At least Annabelle can't run away.'_

The youngling huffed, crossing his arms and looking down in front of Ratchet, who kept a smug 'that's more like it' grin on his face while he scanned their youngest charge.

"Won't find anything," The youngling muttered.

"I'll be the judge of that," Ratchet replied, initiating the scan. When he finished, he frowned, and checked the data again. The youngling, spotting the reaction, snickered and sat back down by Mikaela again.

"Told you," he replied, only to have a large yellow finger cuff his head.

"Behave," Bumblebee warned, kneeling behind him and looking at their medical officer. "What's wrong with him, Ratchet?"

Ratchet shook his head in confusion. "I'm… not sure. According to my scans, he's in perfect shape. Can't detect so much as a virus. I'll have to perform a higher level scan when we get back to the base."

"Will be gone by then," the youngling chimed in. "Always is."

Slowly, Mikaela turned to look at the Autobot by her side.

"Wait, you _always_ get a headache here?"

The youngling froze.

"Not…always."

None of the Autobots did anything more than turn their heads, but the two on the grass could feel the level of intensity increase down on them. The youngling drooped visibly, and muttered something that sounded a lot like 'slag'.

Ironhide crossed his arms in thought, while Optimus and Ratchet shared a confused look between them. Jazz and Will seemed to be staying out of it, while Bumblebee repeatedly nudged the youngling, forcing him to his feet to face them.

"I don't get it," Ironhide began. "This place causes you pain, yet you do everything in your power to come here. There's no logic to that."

"Unless there's something he _isn't_ telling us," Ratchet replied, eyes narrowing in on the youngling, watching the small being falter under his gaze.

The youngling threw helpless glances at both Bumblebee and Jazz but, noticing that both were as focused on him as their medic, admitted defeat.

"It doesn't…hurt…really. More a sharp pulse every now and then. Started a few weeks ago."

"That's it," Ratchet interrupted. "Optimus, I want to take him back to the base. That should not be happening; I need to do a more detailed search. His processor may have been physically damaged."

"If it was, it should have shown up on your scans, Ratchet," Optimus replied. "Something of that magnitude would not go unnoticed, and it doesn't explain why he only experiences the problem here.

Bumblebee stared down at the youngling. "Do you know where this… _pulse_ originates?"

Slowly, the youngling nodded. "Program in my head. It's always active but…it only fully activates here. Not long after I woke, it would send me messages."

Mikaela could feel her stomach sinking as a possible reason began to occur to her. According to the apparent tenseness of Bumblebee next to the two, she wasn't the only one.

"What messages?" she asked, causing the youngling to look at her, then look down.

"Told me to come here. How to get here, and how not to be seen. When I'm here, it accesses information and downloads it to me."

Mikaela's lips tightened. "Like my name?"

The youngling didn't look up. "I feel better when the program is running. It…completes me."

Jazz made a whistling sound, while Bumblebee swung round to stare at their Medical Officer, who was quickly coming to the same theory that Bumblebee and Mikaela had.

"Ratchet, could it be…"

Bumblebee trailed off, unsure if he even wanted to know the answer, while the youngling slipped from his side, darting towards Jazz and collapsing at his feet, not even bothering to turn to see the sunset.

It was Optimus who broke the silence, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he realised just what this revelation might do to his men and allies, not to mention the youngling once he learned about where the program might be coming from.

"Mikaela, Will, I think tonight is over. We'll return to the base and allow Ratchet to conduct a thorough processor scan. I'm sorry about the abruptness."

Will shook his head as he slid off his car, heading towards Mikaela, who hadn't so much as twitched since she'd asked her question.

"I got it, Optimus. Just let us know if you…find anything out."

* * *

As the humans left and the Autobots began to transform to head back to their base, Jazz found the Youngling accessing a private communication link with him.

'_They think __it's__ Sam.'_

Jazz sighed.

'_Well, Ratchet did say you had 'fragments' of him in you, and from the sounds of things, it only tells you things Sam would know. It's not unheard of for random data to merge into an unknown program.'_

The youngling seemed to accept this, and it was only when the base came into view that the link was accessed again.

'_If…if it is. When it gets strong enough, will Sam take over?'_

It took all of Jazz's self control not to swerve into Optimus's side at the question. He took some time before he could put his answer into words.

'_I don't know__ little buddy. But not if I can help it.'

* * *

_

His clients only ever knew him as 'Ghost'. He could know their entire life stories, up to and including their great-grandparents' tax deductions, but they only knew that he was 'Ghost'. He specialised in the unique, the dangerous, and the interesting.

And Simmons very rarely failed to give him all three.

Watching the images feeding through the cameras hidden around the lookout, hidden within anything already giving out an electrical feed, or hidden by technology designed by Sector Seven to hide their energy (donated by his current favourite client), he was perfectly content to watch the mechanical aliens drive away, reviewing everything that had been said. Ironically, the most interesting piece of information had been near the start of the little get-together.

"_Jazz and Bumblebee are working on getting him fully functional within the month. Perhaps then we can, as humans say, 'let him off his leash'__"_

He picked up his phone, dialling a number he knew by heart and smiled.

The programming issues of alien life mattered little to him. All he knew was that, in a month's time, the opportune moment could be days away.

And they'd be ready.

* * *

The youngling was in Ratchet's repair bay for over an hour, during which time Ratchet subjected him to every physical and mental scan he could think of, and several that he made up on the spot. By the time the Youngling was released, Ratchet had every shred of data on the youngling he could get, and spent a further five hours studying those from the processor with maximum scrutiny.

When they were certain the Youngling was on the other side of the base, all of the Autobots gathered into the bay to see what Ratchet had discovered.

It wasn't particularly promising.

"No scan I performed caught even a glimpse of this program our Youngling mentioned," he explained, a holographic list of the youngling's functions streaming on a screen to on side of him. "As far as I can tell, he doesn't have a single program in his processor that couldn't be found in any one of us."

"So where's this 'lookout program' coming from?" Ironhide asked, staring at the list as if expecting the answer to jump out at him.

The hologram changed, this time showing lists of files and memory banks for the Youngling.

"That's where it gets confusing. I've scanned the entire mind, and I can't find anything out of place. There is nothing that could explain this."

Optimus frowned. "What about Sam's fragments? Could they be accidentally creating an imitation of a program?"

Ratchet however, just sighed. "Optimus, when I say I can't find anything out of place, I **mean **nothing. The fragments were obvious when he was newly sparked: they clashed completely with the sparkling's own memory. And now I can't find them. At _all_. I can't even find evidence of their deletion."

Bumblebee swung his head in Ratchet's direction with shock. "But…that's not possible. How could they just disappear?"

The hologram focused on one file, and Ratchet turned to look at it once again. "That's what I wanted to know, and during my searches, I found this in his processor."

From the data appearing in front of them, it appeared to be a corrupted folder, emptied of all its contents and left to fade into obscurity in the youngling's memory banks.

"A corrupted folder?" Ironhide asked. "I admit he's a little young, but it's hardly unusual."

Optimus and the others nodded in agreement. Cybertronians lived for so long that, every now and then, information in their memory banks were damaged through any of a variety of means, and files and folders were isolated and eventually purged.

"True," Ratchet replied, "but this is no ordinary folder."

He tapped a few controls, and began a scenario with the hologram. "I tried to delete it completely while I was scanning. Watch."

The Autobots did so, and their optics widened as the purge program swept over the databanks… and declared that there were no corrupted folders to be found anywhere.

"I tried various programs, anything I could think of," Ratchet continued. "Nothing works. I can see it, my scans can register it, but if I try to remove it, it's as if it's nothing more than a hologram itself."

A new scenario began.

"When I realised I couldn't remove it, I decided to see how it reacted when I programmed the data I received to think it was at the lookout…"

Bumblebee and Ironhide couldn't hide their gasps as they watched the file fix itself without any of the youngling's repair systems going near it, returning to a perfectly usable folder. Jazz's optics narrowed, while Optimus continued to frown.

"Does anything else happen?"

Ratchet shrugged. "Yes. Something goes into the folder, but its not data - in any sense that I can see. I can't seem to register it on any scan I perform. To be honest, Optimus, the only reason I even know anything enters it is because the folder insists that it's full whenever it thinks it's at the lookout. And, if you take the scenario away from the lookout, then send it back, the same thing happens, only the file becomes marginally bigger. I can't explain that, but that's not the end of it."

Bumblebee tensed. "What else?"

"The folder's named was encoded, probably due to the corruption. But when it believes it's at the lookout, it becomes possible to translate."

Ratchets next sentence froze everyone in the room.

"The folder is called _'Fragments_.'"

After a long minute Jazz sighed, ending the silence, and decided to come clean.

"Look, I promised the little guy I wouldn't say anything but, given the circumstances, I think it has to be said. The first time I took him to the lookout… he said he _knew_ he used to be Sam."

The hologram snapped off with a crackle as the smallest Autobot in the room suddenly found himself the centre of attention.

"You told him?" Bumblebee shrieked.

"No!" Jazz snapped back. "I said he already knew. He said he _always_ knew, but didn't remember anything about it other than that. He said he liked me because I 'didn't look for Sam in him.'"

Bumblebee's optics dimmed, while Ratchet glared at Jazz, obviously angry with the Pontiac.

"Jazz, you should have told me this the second he told you. Logically speaking, even with the fragments, he couldn't have known that."

"Hey, back then, I didn't see the harm in it!" Jazz defended. "I mean, even you admit that this is unknown territory. Given the situation, how are we supposed to know what he can and can't remember?"

"Regardless, Jazz," Optimus said. "If the youngling tells you anything that could have something to do with this from now on, you will tell Ratchet or myself immediately." He turned to the other Autobots. "That goes for everyone here."

Ratchet stepped in. "For now, things should continue as they always have. Until we have more information, I don't see a need to distress the Youngling with this."

Bumblebee turned to the medic, breaking out of his earlier shock. "Are you sure about that, Ratchet?" he asked. "Given that he tried to keep it from us, surely he's going to want to know whatever we do know that he doesn't."

"The youngling says that he knows he was Sam, but has none of his memories, and dislikes people considering him to be Sam," Optimus replied. "However, he seems to have developed a folder that fills with something other than data that acts similar to a program, that gives him information that Sam Witwicky knew. Now, not only is this folder getting larger every time he goes to the lookout, it's causing him both pain and pleasure simultaneously. I know I'm not a medic, Bumblebee, but I don't see how we can explain this to him without fear of mental problems about his individuality."

Ratchet nodded in agreement. "He's not even a year old yet, and his processor is still stabilising. Explaining this to him would do more harm than good right now."

Bumblebee didn't look convinced, and Ironhide placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Give it time, Bumblebee," he urged. "Eventually Ratchet will figure this out, and we can tell the runt everything he asks. But for now, let's go with the doctors orders."

Bumblebee nodded, but as the Autobots began to leave, he found himself walking side by side with Jazz.

"Part of you wants to know if that folder is Sam, doesn't it?" Jazz said

Bumblebee nodded.

"The youngling is scared that, if it is, if it gets strong enough, it'll take him over."

Bumblebee turned to glare at him. "Sam wouldn't do that!"

Jazz raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm not saying he would. I'm just saying…a program can only do what it's programmed to do, and right now it's filling the youngling's head with information that Sam knew, and getting stronger whenever he goes to the place where Sam 'died'. I think the little guy is allowed to be a little worried."

Bumblebee shook his head, wanting that image out of his head. "I don't believe that. Perhaps the fragments forged themselves into a bulk of information, and it's slowly being given to the youngling at a pace that keeps him from losing himself. Outside of his obsession with the lookout, the youngling and Sam are… are completely different."

The Camaro stopped, and waited for Jazz to do the same.

"If I'm honest. If this folder does contain this information about Sam, I want to ask the youngling to share it with me."

He couldn't see it for Jazz's visor, but Bumblebee could tell the second-in-command's optics had widened.

"Even if it's just a fragment, I would like to have it. He was a good friend, Jazz, and I miss him. In a millennia I will still miss him. If part of him still exists, I would like to have it."

It was slow, but Bumblebee saw a smile spread across Jazz's face, and the Pontiac swung an arm around his friend's shoulders.

"Well, like 'Hide said, bear with it a little longer, just until Ratchet figures out what's what, and then just ask the little guy."

"I can't just ask him!" Bumblebee yelped.

"Trust me, Bumblebee," Jazz replied. "Something tells me our little buddy would be glad to share this with you."

**To be continued…

* * *

**

_You know, when I started this chapter, I was positive I wasn't going to get it any longer than the Simmons chapter – and now it's the longest frigging one by about a thousand words!_

_I had a great big chunk of stuff that never made it into the Jazz chapter to put in here…only to forget about it and rewrite the whole thing, so this chapter is…well…darker than I wanted, but I really need to speed things along to keep to my (very well worn) plan in my notebook. Maybe I can use it later on…_

_Anyway, rather than keep to what I already had, I kept getting ideas…and it just kept going, and going, and going…until it got to the point where I had no idea how to finish it, so cue angsty Bee._


	11. Sam

3 nights. Four **thousand** words. That would be why its taken so long T-T. Please expect the next one to take longer. I have a lot of coursework glaring at me right now.

Oh, and I love explaining things. Can you tell? -

* * *

**Sam**

Ratchet slapped a hand over his optics as the multiple holograms in his medical bay seemed to sneer at him.

"What am I missing?" he growled, not for first time.

He'd been at this for almost three weeks. Going over every millimetre of the Youngling, even taking him to the lookout again and putting him through the same scans in an attempt to find something, _anything_, that could explain what was going into the corrupted file, or at the very least, where it was coming from.

But there was nothing! The folder wasn't linking to any outside source like the Internet, and it was completely separate from his processor. There was also not reaction from any part of the Sparkling's body that he could find. Nothing else was affected. And it was driving him insane.

He stepped back and sighed. This was getting him nowhere. He had to be missing _something_.

"You know, if you don't take a break eventually, I have orders from Optimus to make you."

It never ceased to amaze Ratchet at just how silent Ironhide could be. The weapons specialist was infamous for short temper and natural talent for destruction, but he really knew how to creep up on a mech. He turned to see the pickup leaning on the door, looking far too excited at the notion of being the one to give medical advice to his own medic.

"I am fine Ironhide" he muttered. "I just don't understand…this!"

He waved his arm in the general direction of the holograms, and used the other to rub his temples.

"You've been at this for three weeks" Ironhide reminded him, walking up to the medic and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Don't you think you should change tactics?"

Ratchet's hand lifted to glare at the black topkick. "Change tactics? What else is there to do but find out what is going in to the folder, and how the folder can change so easily?"

Ironhide shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe…maybe where whatever it is is coming from?"

"I've done that!" Ratchet snapped. "Nothing attaches itself to the folder. It just pops out of nowhere. It defies logic in every sense!"

"So stop looking for a link" Ironhide replied. "A year ago I would have thought an organic gaining a spark defied logic, and look where we are now. Who says it's going to be an obvio-"

"Stop" Ratchet snapped, looking almost shocked. He swung round to the holograms, and narrowed in on a few he'd neglected to their (he'd thought) worthlessness.

"Ironhide, you're a genius"  
"What?"

Ratchet closed down several of the scans and brought up a few involving the Fragments folder and the Youngling's spark chamber, and flung himself into his work.

"Get Optimus. Now! I think I finally have an answer."

* * *

The Youngling was avoiding him. 

He hadn't given a reason, but Bumblebee knew something had changed in the Youngling's demeanour since that night on the lookout. When he was still a Sparkling, he'd adored the Camaro's company, actively seeked it out whenever they were both on the base, they had been as close as brothers. And now…

He didn't think the other's had noticed, but there was a definite distance between them whenever they were alone. And whenever Jazz appeared, the Youngling was immediately by his side. It was the Pontiac the Youngling seeked out now.

He stopped and shook his head. He _hated_ feeling like this. It wasn't Jazz's fault that his friendship with the Youngling was disappearing. The young Autobot merely felt more at ease with Jazz, content in the knowledge that the Solstice wasn't looking for anything…_more_ in him.

He quickened his pace towards the exit of the base. Jazz had once again taken the Youngling's hologram training in his own hands, and he'd seen neither most of the day.

Well, enough was enough. He was talking to the Youngling today, and he was going to get things back to the way they used to be. He couldn't take much more of this.

"Hey, Bumblebee!"

Bumblebee jerked up at the voice, and saw Jazz running through the door up to him, looking elated.

"He's got it!" he yelled. "Our little buddy's finally got it!"

"Jazz" Bumblebee started. "Got what?"

Jazz sighed in exasperation. "Duh, his hologram. Rider with helmet and jacket and everything. Doesn't even fizzle when you throw a stick through it."

Bumblebee smiled despite himself. "He must be elated. Did he spin on one wheel?"

"Six times" Jazz replied, grinning back. "Wanna see?"

The yellow bot nodded, and both headed back out…to see nothing but tire marks heading out of the base.

"I really should have seen that coming."

"Uh huh…"

* * *

The Youngling sent off a text to Mikaela's phone while he cruised down the road into Tranquillity, asking her to meet him at the lookout. No doubt Jazz and the others would be after him soon enough, even with his hologram fully functional, and he wanted to show it off. He'd have invited Will and Annabelle too, if he'd thought they could get here in time. 

While the road was bare, he accelerated far past the recommended limit and swerved dangerously, performing moves that would have killed any actual rider. He hadn't realised just how…free, having a hologram could feel.

When any of the other Autobots gave him use of their externals, his whole form felt stiff, aware that any move he made had to be given to the other Autobot first to keep up appearances. Cut out the middle bot, and the feeling was incredible. The being made completely of light was as much a part of his body as his wheels.

Reluctantly slowing as he hit the town's streets, he headed to the lookout, only to turn back and cruise through the town centre first, never having been there before outside of night.

It was incredible to the young Autobot. The number of humans on the street, the different types of cars on the road, the buzzing from the electronics coming from every building, person or object…it was a completely different world.

His engine revved at the fact that this was just a small town, and that elsewhere on this planet, there were cities a thousand times busier, with hundreds of their own traditions unique to them. The program in his head that the others were referring to as 'the lookout program' for now, had given him pictures, information, names, but he wanted to see them himself. See every inch of them and fill his own memories.

As he drove along the street, the far too familiar nagging feeling began to wake in his processor, nudging him in the direction of the lookout. But he ignored it, continuing to drive along.

After that day almost a month ago, the Youngling had done everything in his power to ignore the program that was always in the back of his processor. His brothers were tight lipped about whatever they had found, even Jazz and Bumblebee. Which meant they had to know what it was, but didn't want him to know.

And that made his spark tremble, no matter what assurances they might give him. It was for that reason that had clung to Jazz recently, knowing that whatever happened, Jazz would only be worried about him, not the program.

But then again, the program did have its uses. He used the information it gave him happily enough in the beginning, and it hadn't hurt that much recently. There was also that feeling of emptiness he got when he didn't go to the lookout after a while. Like it or not, the program was part of him.

Plus, it had given him the final adjustments to complete his hologram. He'd been struggling the past week to get the minor-yet-vital components down, and it was only with the code he could gleam from the program at his last lookout visit only a few days ago that he'd mastered it. That had to be worth something.

Eventually, the feeling in his head grew too strong to resist, and he made his hologram sigh in annoyance before heading to where he hoped Mikaela would be waiting.

He wasn't disappointed, and flashed his headlights at the girl leaning on the blue bike. Mikaela raised a hand in greeting, smiling as the hologram shimmered out of existence and the Ducati transformed into his robotic form.

"So you come with accessories now?"

The Youngling nodded furiously. "Yeah. Got the hologram down! I'm totally pimped out now!"

"And apparently spending _way_ too much time with Jazz" Mikaela quipped, and the Youngling smiled. "So, if I suggest we go for a ride, are you going to keep to a speed that my Vespa can keep up with?"

The Youngling groaned while his ears drooped. "That no fun. Can't believe Ratchet didn't make it faster."

"It's a Vespa Youngling" Mikaela replied. "There's only so much you can do. Anyway, are you interested?"

The Youngling nodded, and transformed back into the Ducati, crackling as the hologram activated once again. It was a youth dressed in leather riding gear, all black except for the red jacket. She grabbed her own helmet and smiled, grinning at the Autobot insignia on the back of the holograms helmet.

"You guys really love that logo don't you?" she started, tossing hers in her hand. "Maybe you should ask Secretary Keller is you can get it registered as an official trademark. Make some income selling it on T-shirts. People will buy anything with a logo on it."

The Youngling laughed, though Mikaela noticed that the voice came from the hologram rather than the bike, a handy trick for believability, and took the helmet off to smile at her.

"Jazz and Bumblebee might go for it, but I think Optimus would…"

The Youngling trailed off as Mikaela's face paled deathly white, and her heartbeat intensed. She was shaking, but her eyes refused to blink, staring at the apparition in front of her.

"Mikaela?" Sam asked. "What's wrong?"

* * *

When Optimus entered the Medic Bay, leaving Ironhide at the door, he found Ratchet talking gibberish, staring and waving at his work. 

"It boggles the mind…the impossibility…revolutionises…I can't believe it."

"Ratchet" Optimus began, having attempted to piece together his medics mumblings and failing completely. "Ironhide said you thought you had come up with answers to our Youngling's 'ailment.'"

The calm confident voice seemed to bring the medic back to reality, shaking off his apparent awe and confusion.

"Ah, yes. I think I have Optimus."

He gestured to the screens, and Optimus focused on the images.

"As you know, I've spent the past month trying to discover why the folder 'acts' the way it does, and just what it appears to be filling with. Every scan on every logical possibility came up negative. And I couldn't find any alien sources coming from the lookout to explain it. I was about ready to give up when Ironhide reminded me of the Youngling's spark, and I realised there was one source already present in the Youngling's body that I hadn't thought to check."

The holograms revealed the Youngling's spark chamber, and magnified several times, until they were at its very core. Optimus's optics widened at the implications.

"I had already checked for spark energy" Ratchet continued. "But not _core_ spark energy. After all, why would I? The core of a spark is our very essence, it can_not_ survive outside of the spark."

An image appeared of the corrupted folder, now with the core spark scan in place, and a simulation ran of the Youngling going to the lookout. Even Optimus, with his years of trying to keep emotions in check, couldn't stop a gasp as part of the Younglings spark seemed to die away, while the folder became uncorrupted and full of spark energy.

"Its hard to accept I admit" Ratchet explained. "And it became even more confusing when I analysed the spark itself. Despite the fact that the core clearly gets smaller, the spark itself detects no change. But when the Youngling leaves the lookout…"

The simulation ran in reverse, and the figures changed.

"The spark's content becomes _larger_."

"Ratchet…" Optimus trailed off, unsure how to continue. "Are you _certain_ all of your tools are functioning normally?"

Ratchet, to his credit, barely bristled. "I would be insulted Optimus, if it wasn't for the fact that I have trouble believing it myself. No, the reason for this lies in the spark itself."

The hologram highlighted small pockets in the core of the spark, and Ratchet nodded to them.

"They were so small I didn't notice them at first, but these small fragments in the core are of a different…well…state to the rest of the core. Close enough to be recognised as core energy and to survive within it, but too different to be absorbed entirely. Because of that, my scans and the spark itself ignores them. But these fragments are what are going into the folder, and the Younglings processor…somehow…is 'correcting' them."

"Correcting them?"

Ratchet nodded. "At the lookout, these fragments change from similar-to-core, to pure-core. When the Youngling leaves, they go back to the spark, and the core accepts them. In effect, every time the Youngling goes to the lookout, he is making his spark larger."

Optimus stared at the holograms in disbelief.

"Why?" he eventually whispered. "For what purpose?"

His medic drooped. "Well, theoretically, increasing the size of a spark like this is impossible, so I'm afraid to say I can only speculate" he began. "This is far beyond medical science, but humanity does seem to believe that the human soul is an incredibly powerful and resilient thing. It may be possible that when Sam's memories were purged, what remained of 'Sam' found a way to keep on living. I do believe he's 'merging' with the Youngling."

Optimus turned his attention back to his medic. "You can't be certain?"

Ratchet shook his head. "No, but the Youngling's processor is definitely absorbing information, that I can prove. And I don't think it's going to harm or change him in any obvious way."

"How so?"

Ratchet gestured back to the holograms. "The pain the Youngling felt. I think it's a safety measure. From what I have found, whatever the Youngling is getting from this lookout program, it's coming in small pieces. Whenever he absorbs more than the program thinks he can handle, it shuts down, causing the pain the Youngling feels. If it continues at the current rate, it will take several decades for all of the core fragments to merge completely."

Optimus sighed in relief. "Which means there is no need to worry about this program?"

"Medically, no, and it would probably be more dangerous to try and remove it. As long as we don't alter the situation, the program is fairly harmless to his psyche. It would be no different from giving you a few years of my memories. At the end of the day, you may be altered by them, but you would still be 'you'.

Optimus nodded and smiled. "I'm glad to hear that. I think we can break the news to him and the others today."

Suddenly, the doors burst open, and Bumblebee leapt through, closely followed by Jazz.

"Optimus, the area around the lookout just became white noise! The place is off the maps."

"Yeah" Jazz agreed, an almost hidden strain on his voice. "And the Youngling was heading there."

Optimus felt a shudder run through his spark. The only humans with the capabilities of keeping them completely out of touch with an area was Sector 7. And if it _wasn't_ them…

"The two of you head there now. Don't stop trying to contact the Youngling and keep me informed. I'll take Ironhide and Ratchet and keep an eye on all traffic leaving the area.

And keep an eye on the sky. This could be Starscream's doing."

* * *

"Mikaela wait!" 

"Don't you dare!"

The Youngling froze, his hologram still staring at the figure vanishing on the blue scooter.

He didn't know what happened. One moment they had been joking about, and then Mikaela had gone pale. She'd squeaked something he couldn't understand, then flung herself on her Vespa. When the Youngling had tried to ask what was wrong, she had kicked her side and drove off, screaming at him not to follow.

As she vanished out of site, his hologram drooped over his handlebars, dejected. It had to have been the hologram. Mikaela had been fine up until she'd seen his face.

His hologram didn't have much in the way of a reflection, but he knew it digitally inside and out. He'd tweaked it from the generic man-with-moustache that the Autobots had started him with, using information he'd gained online, from around, and…from the program.

The hologram's hands clenched in anger, teeth gritted and looking every inch the angry teen. It made a show of kicking the ground, although nothing was moved.

He was an **idiot**. The word Mikaela had uttered was 'Sam'. His hologram was an imitation of his predecessor, the person he spent so much time trying to prove he wasn't.

It was that program's fault. It had made it all too easy to master the hologram, so long as it looked liked Sam. He didn't care how much he'd liked the hologram to begin with, as soon as he got through the base, he was wiping it from his memory banks. He could deal with man-with-moustache until he came up with something else. Anything else.

His engine revved, and he absently tried to open a line with Jazz, telling him he'd be back soon…

Only to hit empty air.

Although it was impossible to see, the bike tensed, taking in for the first time what had happened in the last minute. Even a place as deserted as the lookout usually had electrical humming nearby, and now the place was dead.

That couldn't be good.

Something shot out of the bushes, and the bike bolted, dirt kicking up as all but leapt back onto the road, narrowly missing the projectile, which crashed to the ground, a net billowing open on impact. Now that he knew where to look, he could see a man in black, holding some kind of gun that had let the net loose.

His tires hit tarmac and he accelerated down the road, only to break harshly when he spotted the several trucks blocking his exit. Men were on top of the trucks, canisters on their back and hoses in their hands. There were several of them on the ground too, of which only one was bare the canister, and was talking into a radio with a determined ice in his eyes.

The Youngling cursed in Cybertronian. Apparently this empty air was affecting his own scans too. He was on his own with less sense than a human. This was really, really bad.

The Ducati attempted to reverse and try his luck on the other side of the road, only to hear a large truck crashing down the road. The sight of the Topkick almost made him cry out in joy, only to change it for a cry of pain when it swerved into him, knocking him off his wheels and crashing to the ground.

Immediately he transformed back to his Autobot form. Clearly these humans knew about him. They wouldn't be doing this otherwise. He clenched his hand to activate his gun…and hesitated, a lesson given by Optimus not all that long ago in his mind.

"_We protect. We do not harm."_

He winced and unclenched his hand. His only option was to run, and hope that agility would be more helpful than speed.

He never got a chance to find out. His hesitation cost him the opportunity, and another projectile weapon hit his chest, bursting open and enveloping him, sending the Autobot crashing to the ground.

Immediately, he was surrounded by men, and liquid nitrogen filled the air. Every joint, every circuit numbed in seconds, and the world began to slow down. Any jerk he made in any direction, and he was hit with another blast. Slowly, everything but his mind began to shut down, and he was barely aware of being jostled onto a stretcher, and carried into a large van, with an interior that wouldn't have looked out of place in an ambulance. His optics dimmed, his optical functions going offline as he was strapped down, although his audio refused to die, hoping, begging that he would hear the revving of familiar engines in the distance.

Instead, all he got was several humans whispering around him, while another, the one he would have recognised as the man on the radio, jumped into the back, and gave the order to move out before running a hand down the Autobots chest in an apparent examination.

"Steel chains and leather straps? What do you think he is, a gorilla? He'll get out of this in seconds when he wakes up."

Another voice replied, again male. "According to your calculations, by the time he's recovered enough to make the attempt, he'll be in your lab. And once he's there, he's no longer my responsibility."

"Are you positive you hit him with enough?"

"More than positive. Trust me, he's dead to the world."

The Youngling wanted to scream! He was trapped. Unable to move, unable to communicate. Who were these people? What lab? Why were they doing this?"

Nearby, a machine started to beep incessantly, and a female voice joined the fray.

"Its power source is fluctuating. I think you must have damaged something in retrieval."

"Then fix it! I can't have him dying before we can examine him."

A hand was placed on his shoulder, and the first voice echoed through the Youngling's receivers.

"Don't worry Witwicky, you're doing your country a favour. Once we see what they did to you, how they did it to you, I'll have everything I need to convince Keller. If you survive I'll make sure you're treated well. Just hang in there until we're done."

Despite the nitrogen freezing him cold, the Youngling's circuits burned hot at the voice.

'_I'm not him!'_ he screamed inside. _'Why? Why am I not enough for them? Why do I have to be him! I'm just me! Leave me alone Simmons!'_

His inner screams stopped, realising just what he'd said. He'd never met the human, but knew his name.

Something shifted in the back of his mind, and his body jerked, the machine beeping even harder while voices continued to call around him.

"Something's wrong, it's reacting to something."

"We're gonna have to open it up if it doesn't calm down."

"The processor must not shut down with liquid nitrogen. Certainly would explain a few things about NBE-1."

But the Youngling ignored them, looking through his processor, looking for the source.

There!

That calming, knowledgeable presence. The thing that caused all this. It was still active. How? The truck couldn't be near the lookout anymore, there was no way the Autobots wouldn't have come by now.

The nitrogen…it had to be slowing down the process. The program hadn't had time to fade into obscurity, so it was. Still. There.

His vocal unit gave an animalistic screech as hands descended on his armour, various tools being activated, tense voices yelling around him, but he ignored them all, narrowing in on that program.

'_It's your fault! Yourfault! YourFAULT!'_

The program had no voice, but the Youngling could almost sense the fear the program had as it tried to flee, tried to hide to the back of his mind where he could barely detect it.

But the Youngling took a mental hand around it, his body still screeching.

"**I don't WANT you anymore!**" he shrieked in Cybertronian, voice slurred by the nitrogen. Nearby another canister was being dragged towards him, an apparent safety measure.

"**Purge, purge, PURGE!"**

"Its power source is going crazy!"

"We're gonna loose him!"

"**Purge! Purge!"**

The program crumbled under his anger, and the Youngling felt it break apart, achieving what Ratchet thought impossible. As it vanished into oblivion, the Youngling felt a pain in his spark, and gave out one more scream before his processor off lined, and his spark burst in a flash of light.

"**Pu-rge…"**

_To be continued . . ._

_

* * *

_

Review damn you... -


	12. Fragment

_First off, I know some people were a little irritated at my curse at the end of the last chapter, but A) it was a joke born from the previous chapter being the longest I'd ever written but got less reviews than any other chapter, and B) it worked. I've never gotten that many reviews for one chapter **ever**. I'm only human, I crave acknowledgement, its a vice. However, I won't do it again, and I'm sorry to those who took offence._

_You know, for the amount of coursework I actually got done in the time I took off from this fic, I might as well have kept it at the top of my priorities list. I am a master of procrasination. That said, again, next chapter will take a while._

_

* * *

_

**Fragment**

Bumblebee screeched onto the lookout's dusty ground, transforming before his wheels even stopped spinning. Jazz was right behind him, performing a back flip in order to stop. The white noise hadn't ebbed for a second, but surely the Youngling would have noticed by now. He would have left and contacted them…unless he was unable to.

The Camaro ran to the highest point at the lookout, looking around in hopes of catching red and white.

"Youngling?"

Jazz meanwhile, kneeled down to look at the tracks in the dirt.

"Mikaela was here. Know the tracks from that disgrace she calls transportation anywhere. Tore off pretty fast too. But the Youngling wasn't with her."

Bumblebee moved back to the road, looking at the trees on the other side.

"There's no sign of Decepticons" Jazz continued, "but we need to find the source of the white-"

There was a metallic crunch, and he turned to see Bumblebee holding a crushed silver box in his hand. Almost immediately, the electronic noises roared back into life.

"-Noise. Well, guess that proves whatever grabbed him was human."

Bumblebee glared at the box in his hands, wishing it was capable of suffering. "He's not here Jazz. He's not even nearby."

Jazz transformed back into the Pontiac, engine revving softly. "I'm going to go check the other side of the hill. There's no trace of any major activity this way, so he had to have been heading towards the lake. Contact Optimus and tell him to get a hold of Captain Lennox, and probably Secretary Keller too."

* * *

"_If Witwicky is dead, I'm throwing you onto a freeway!"_

"_I can't explain it sir! He just shut down."_

"_Wait, wait, wait! I've got his chest open, I'm checking his power source."_

The voices were little more than a blur, a haze at the back of his mind. The Youngling paid them little attention, drifting around in darkness. Nothing really seemed to matter.

"You know, that was quite possibly the dumbest, dumb thing in the history of dumb things. And there's a **lot** of dumb things on that list."

The voice pierced into his processor, insisting on acknowledgment. The Youngling flinched, and murmured a mental reply.

"G'way, head hurts."

"_He twitched! Whatever you're doing keep doing it!"_

"_His…what did they call it?"_

"_Spark chamber."_

"_-Spark chamber is lodged shut, I'm working on it."_

Unfortunately, the voice seemed to be immune to his pain, and seemed to be whacking on his processor with a mallet.

"That's not really surprising moron. You just tried to rip out a good portion of your spark along with several vital components in your processor. If it wasn't for the fact that I wasn't exactly a normal program, you'd be an empty husk right now."

The Youngling slowly started to come to. "What?"

"Course, if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have been in that situation in the first place, but…probably best to forget about that. Doesn't really matter anymore."

"Wait…what did I do? And who are you?"

"_And I'm in! His power source seems stab…-that's strange."_

"_What? What's strange?"_

"_It looks different from NBE-1, think that's due to his 'birth'?"_

"You really don't remember? You wanted me gone so…I left. I think…"

Slowly, archaically slowly, the liquid nitrogen keeping him paralysed let up enough to let his last moments come back to him, and his processor jolted into full working capacity.

"_Okay he seems to have recovered. Leave him open and prepare him for the scans. We have only a short window, so move it people!"_

"You haven't left!" the Youngling shrieked, "You're still here!"

"Its complicated" the voice snapped back. "But basically, instead of having a program that was slowly going to join with you over the course of several decades, you get a snappy little voice in your head until the end of time. Congratulations!"

"Join? Decades? I don't understand!"

He felt his body being moved, and the voice hissed in anger.

"Hold that thought and go into the deepest recharge you can get. I'll explain what I know later. Something tells me this is going to hurt."

The voice faded, and before the Youngling could question its loss, his body jerked in pain, and his vocals gave a piercing screech before taking the voice's advice, and trying to succumb to recharge.

* * *

The Autobots were worried. 

Bumblebee was the most obvious, having driven off in a desperate search for anything resembling a distress signal, but Will had been around them long enough to recognise the signs in the others. Jazz had his battle mask in place, and had taken up the habit of pacing and twitching his hands, as if beginning to clench them and thinking better of it at the last minute. Ironhide on the other hand, was a definite fist clencher, while Ratchet was taut and far too tense in his actions.

It was the eyes that gave it away for Optimus though. Even when wearing a calming smile while he listened to Mikaela's explanation, the eyes were filled with unspoken fear, and more than a small amount of anger.

"-Can't believe I just left him there" Mikaela choked. "I just had to get as far away as I could, I know it probably hurt him but-"

She stopped and dropped her face in her hands.

"Optimus, I swear I didn't see anyone. The place was deserted. I really thought one of you would be along in minutes."

"And we were" Jazz replied. "Guess whoever took him knew what they were doing."

"It had to be Sector Seven" Ironhide snarled. "If Keller doesn't bring me that infuriating organism's head on a platter, I'll go hunting myself!"

"Ironhide" Optimus began, only to be cut off by the angry weapons specialist

"No Prime!" he snarled. "This is going too far. This country's government slagging_ promised _us we'd be left alone. If they wont do something about it, I **will**."

"It was one thing when it was Bumblebee" Jazz agreed, his own memories of that event not particularly pleasing. "He was a soldier, he at least had some training, a way of taking it. The Youngling aint got that. He's a kid. And if you tell me not to interfere, this time I'm not listening Prime."

The tone of his voice was almost vicious, but Will could tell it dressed the atmosphere well. Even Ratchet seemed to agree with the angry second in command.

Optimus sighed and nodded. "I feel the same way Jazz, but we must at least give Secretary Keller a chance to locate the Youngling and those responsible. Whoever apprehended him clearly knew how to take him and how to keep us from locating him. It could be likely that they were less careful about other humans locating them.

* * *

"Well get him in here now!" 

Secretary John Keller slammed the phone down and rubbed his temples, resisting the urge to crawl underneath his desk and hide until this viciously delicate situation was over.

Optimus had always struck him as the strong, calm type, not one to raise his voice, confident in his ability to get his point across without yelling. The call he had received however, had blown that completely out the window. He had five extremely angry robots ready to rip apart Nevada, a missing 'child', treaties about to crumble to dust, and knew without having to hunt him down, that Simmons was behind it. The man had taken a leave of absence two days before, and nobody seemed to know where he was.

There was a short knock on his door, and Keller's eye's narrowed as Tom Banachek entered, a nervous look plastered on his face.

"You wanted to see me sir?"

John Keller's glare could have burned a hole in the ozone layer. "Where is your partner?"

The nervousness turned to confusion, and Banachek frowned. "I…believe he recently went on vacation" he replied. "With your permission."

The confusion was honest. If Banachek was in on this, he was a far better actor than Keller gave him credit. Some of the anger left his frame, quickly being replaced with tiredness.

"The Autobots's Youngling was kidnapped a few hours ago" Keller explained, and was grateful to see Banachek could put two and two together judging on the look of horror and disbelief quickly coming to his face.

The ex-Sector Seven agent slumped down into the chair on the opposite side of the desk and put his face in his hands.

"Oh God, what's he done? I wish I could say he wouldn't, but I know he would. I just never though he'd go against direct orders…"

"Banachek?"

The agent looked up, the horror less evident and the inevitable acceptance taking precedence.

"Reggie can't…he can't **not** be preparing for invasion or conspiracy. So much time preparing for it, it's his family's livelihood, and you saw how he was with Witwicky when he wanted to let the car near the cube. Couldn't even process the idea of it being on our side. I guess he just couldn't leave it alone."

For a time, both sat in silence, unsure how to continue. Finally, Secretary Keller leaned over the desk.

"Banachek, do you have any idea how Simmons might have grabbed him? Or where he would have taken him?"

Banachek frowned. "Some…I could narrow it down if given some time."

"Good. As of right now, that's your only priority. I want a list as detailed as you can get within two hours."

"Two hours? Sir with all due respe-"

"Banachek! Do you really think the Autobots are going to sit back and wait a couple of days? Simmons could have the kid torn down to spare parts by then! You have a two hours! Get to it!"

* * *

The Youngling had no idea just how long they continuously put in through those tests. Every time there was a burst of light, he felt his mind snap out of recharge, and it was a frantic scrabble to return before the next one came. More often than not he was unsuccessful. 

He only realised they'd stopped after realising he'd been left alone in the darkness of his mind for more than forty five minutes that he crawled back to the surface, searching for the voice that had warned him.

"…How long was I in recharge?"

"Oh hey, you feeling okay?"

The Youngling wondered if it was worth the effort to say 'no'. The continuous paralysis aside, his body was on fire.

"Nobody found me yet?"

"Sorry. Wherever they've taken you, its obvious you can't get a signal out. Unless you get to one of the computer monitors, I think you're on your own."

"Great…"

Now that he was somewhat more aware, brushing off the final remnants of his earlier recharge, he could hear the voices in the next room, chattering excitedly about whatever his torture has revealed. He muted them out, having a feeling that knowing wasn't the better option.

"So, who are you?"

"We're back to this again hm?"

"What else can I do? I can't move, you're my only company. You came when I destroyed the program…Who are you?"

The voice sighed. "I'm…not entirely sure right now. I remember being there before you purged me. We were learning together, merging too, but I didn't really have a say in it, I just…existed."

"Are you…Sam?"

"…I don't know. I don't think so. For now, call me 'Fragment', its probably the closest thing to a name I have right now."

The Youngling wanted to ask more, but the sound of a door opening hit his still active audios, and he frantically began to recharge again.

* * *

There were five minutes to go before Keller's imposed time ran up when Banachek burst into the room, not even bothering with his usual knock. With a quick 'sorry sir' he rolled out a map of Nevada, covered in various circles in different marker pens. 

Keller glanced at it, and then at the flustered agent. "Tell me you have something."

Banachek nodded. "I think I do. If I know Reggie as well as I think I do, he'd want to get the 'target' under lock and key as soon as possible with minimal tracking possibilities, so the odds of him risking flying Witwicky out are minimal. Even if he got out of making a flight plan and chose his runways well, it's too dangerous. He'd have to drive."

The agent looked at the map, brow creasing in thought. "However, he wouldn't keep him too close. He'd be looking for somewhere outside their expected range, but not so far that he'd have Witwicky in transport too long. Then, if you consider all of the places with, or with potential, wave jamming capabilities, he's only got four options."

Here pointed to each of the four targets, all well out of Tranquillity's way.

"Are you sure about this?"

"As sure as I can be in the time I had. Reggie has a lot of contacts, most of which can't be found by anyone but him. This is the best I can do."

"Can't we just see which of these places is transmitting white noise?"

Banachek shook his head. "They all are Sir. They're all being used for various projects that require the utmost secrecy. Its probably going to become a regular occurrence once the more business side of politics finds out about our 'visitors'."

Keller rubbed his temples in frustration, but grabbed the phone and began dialling anyway. Four targets were better than none.

The phone didn't even get through half a ring before Optimus's voice came through. It must be handy to have the phone wired straight into your mind.

* * *

Bumblebee was tearing through the back end of a nearby city, chasing any airwaves that were even remotely unusual when Optimus's voice came through his communicator, along with a set of coordinates. 

"Bumblebee, Keller came through with four possible sites. You're to head to this location and confirm any sighting. Captain Lennox will be accompanying Ironhide, and Ratchet will be remaining on base in order to follow whoever finds him."

Bumblebee's engine increased his speed with the news. "Understood Prime."

"Bumblebee" Optimus added. "I know this is a difficult situation, and we must not harm the humans. If you find him, you must try to stay calm."

The Camaro didn't answer, and continued to raise his speed, ignoring any speed laws humans dared to place on him.

* * *

"You have to get out of here." 

Youngling whimpered, wishing he could do more than wince with his paralysed form. This time hadn't been scans. This had been physical, drills and blades prodded into every crevice, voices noting what they found, trying to decide what it had been converted from. They had actually taken saws to his Ducati skeleton, peeling back his treasured red and white plates to get into the Protoform. The voices had been higher and faster when they'd found the various components that had taken over Sam's organs, but by that time the Youngling was beyond caring. The crippling pain made recharge impossible, especially with the flashing warning signs flying through is processor, and he didn't dare attempt to go into stasis in the hopes that something, some_one_ would be able to contact him. When they'd finally left him alone, they hadn't bothered to return the discarded plates, and several of his systems were no longer at full capacity.

He'd never wanted to see Ratchet more in his life.

"Are you still with me? You have to find a way to get a message out."

"Sam?"

"Fragment" corrected the voice. "Look, I've got an idea. It's a little dangerous, but given the situation, doing nothing is dangerous. Willing to listen?"

"What is it?"

"Those morons ripped a good portion of your safety protocols. If you override your cooling systems, you might be able to overheat yourself enough to break free from the nitrogen."

The Youngling optic's brightened in shock. "That could kill me! If I leave it too long without the security, I won't be able to shut it off."

"Staying here is going to kill you" Fragment snapped back. "If you start moving long enough to get close enough to the computers, you might be able to get out some kind of beacon."

"I don't know…"

"Let me put it this way, what's the alternative?"

Before he could answer, the door opened once again, and Simmons walked back in, closely followed by the scientists rolling a table in.

"Okay people, the final piece of the puzzle gets done now. We're gonna have to move out soon, no way they haven't got an idea where we are yet."

One of the scientists picked up a tool on the table, which made sounds similar to that of a dental tool.

"Don't worry, we got into the spark chamber easily enough before. Shouldn't take too long to extract the chamber itself."

The Youngling made a strangled shriek at the admission.

"Remove it!"

"Can you even survive that?" Fragment yelped.

"I don't know, but I'm not staying to find out."

* * *

As the men descended upon him, his cooling systems failed and he slowly began to feel the soft heat fill his body. He bought the time he could, but when the machine touched his chest, he jerked to life. 

The liquid nitrogen was still strong, but he managed a vicious grin as his arms snapped into motion, and sent the man and his tool flying into his partners.

Immediately everyone in the room bolted, Simmons lunging for one of the nitrogen cannons. Still unable to fully move his legs, the Youngling grabbed the end of the table and swung his body around, hitting the agents back and sending him across the floor.

"Somebody get security!"

"Restrain him and get him offline!"

He crashed to the floor, forcing his legs to work as he stumbled towards the computers.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Fragment yelled. "Lets get out of-"

The Youngling screeched as something barrelled into him, throwing him across the floor and refusing to get off him. A man in black, probably the earlier requested security, forced his arms down, trying to keep him pinned. With a yell, the Youngling forced him off, and pushed himself back to the console, his hand sparking as he touched the electronic device.

But just as he was about to hack the network, he felt…_something_ shift in his mind, the application of a program he didn't recognise, and blue sparks, frighteningly similar to spark energy shot from his hand.

"What the!-"

Fragment's voice cut off, and the presence that had accompanied him vanished from his mind.

"Fragment? Fragment!"

A canister of liquid nitrogen crashed into his side, and the Youngling stumbled, finding himself surrounded by the cooling liquid. Already his systems were reaching critical, demanding that his coolant be restored or to be forced into permanent stasis.

When he looked back, it was probably the loss of the little company he had, combined with the earlier pain, and the deathly situation he had put himself in, that had resulted in the next incident.

One man, confident in their ability to restrain the Youngling lunged, nitrogen spewing, and the Youngling reacted, not even aware of the shifting metal in his arms until he made a move to punch the man away, only to see everyone freeze as he pierced the mans shirt and flesh, and have him jerk to a stop with a sickly gasp.

The Youngling's optics opened as he fully took in the sharp blade butting from his arm, identical to the one of his left save for the blood now running down it. He retracted the blade with a shriek, and watched the man slump to the ground, dead.

The men around him moved slowly, nitrogen coming in from a safe distance, already beginning to freeze his systems once again. Barely aware he was doing it, the Youngling reactivated his cooling systems, and slumped to the ground.

The computer crackled with the blue spark energy once more, forcing the humans to split their attention once again, but the Youngling barely noticed, and barely registered the return of the familiar presence in his head.

"What in the name of Primus just hap-"

Fragment trailed off as he caught sight of the body on the ground.

"Aw man…"

The Youngling didn't even appear to hear him, and forgetting his earlier fears, fell into stasis. He didn't hear the scientists distress over their fallen team-mate, didn't hear Simmons snarl on his phone about being compromised, and despite Fragments best attempts, was unaware of his body being moved out of the compound, restrained in yet another van, and driven off to one more unknown base.

The Youngling didn't really want to be able to think right now.

* * *

A few hours later, Ironhide reached the building, only to find it abandoned, with minute traces of spark energy in some of the isolated computers. 

_To be continued . . ._

_

* * *

And yes, I have changed chapter 10 to 'Youngling' and given 'Fragment' to this chapter. I sort of realised my original skeleton wasn't going to cut it with what I had, and in order to keep it within a naming frame of mind, it felt right to switch titles around._


	13. Hax

This one is a little...sketchy I guess. Probably not the right word but my brain isn't functioning at max right now. I kept getting distracted as I worked, but since its still legible and it'll take my beta quite some time before she gets to this chapter, enjoy anyway.

* * *

**Hax**

"Optimus, its Ironhide. The slaggers flew the coop."

Optimus had only been minutes away from his own destination, and slowed his pace, sliding to the side of the road.

"What do you mean?" he asked, opening up channels to the others, requesting them to pull over to hear what Ironhide had to say.

"The Youngling was here. He got close enough to access the computers for a second or so, just enough to leave a footprint. They must have cleared out shortly afterward, Will managed to get in, found where they were keeping him, but it's been stripped."

Before Optimus could reply, Jazz's voice came through.

"So where does that leave us?"

There was silence, and Bumblebee growled through.

"At a dead end."

As much as Optimus hated to admit it, his scout was right.

"If they left that building, odds are they moved further away," Ironhide continued. "I don't think they'll have headed to the other sites Banachek mentioned."

"You're right" Optimus said, lowering on his tyres. "Ironhide, take Captain Lennox and head back to the base. We'll check out the other sites to be certain, and I'll contact Secretary Keller again."

"Optimus…" Ironhide began. "I meant what I said earlier. If they don't find him soo-"

"I know Ironhide" Optimus interrupted. "If all the other sites turn up empty, and we don't have another lead within the next few hours…"

He sighed, knowing each of his team was hanging on to his every word.

"You have my permission to do whatever it takes to get one."

With that, all transmissions were cut off, and the Peterbuilt truck took off again.

* * *

"Come on man; don't leave me on my own. Snap out of it!" 

"Leave me alone…"

Dimly, in some part of his processor, the Youngling knew he was strapped down. And judging from the smooth rocking, he was in transport. He hadn't bothered with reactivating his optics or audios, but no doubt he had several dozen men surrounding him. At least they were leaving his spark alone for now.

"Look, you acted on pure instinct" Fragment insisted. "You didn't even know you **had** dual blades. It was an accident."

"I killed him. I just…killed him. Didn't even think about it."

"Hey, I was…busy, when that happened, but given the amount of time I was gone, there was no way you had time to think about it. It was **not**. Your. Fault.

"What do you know?" Youngling shrieked. "You're just a program, just a bunch of fragments of someone who doesn't exist anymore. What do you know about anything?!"

There was silence, and the Youngling felt his spark twinge in regret.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered. "I didn't mean that."

Fragment didn't answer, and the Youngling realised he'd have to continue the conversation.

"Do…do you have my memories? Any of them?"

It was funny how you could 'sense' the hurt in someone when they had no face or physical voice.

"Why?"

"Do you remember when I first learned how to scan for an alternate mode? And I blew up Mikky's bike?"

Fragment chuckled despite himself. "Oh yeah, her face was a picture. She would stop yelling at Jazz."

"Do you remember what happened after that?"

* * *

_Optimus picked up the small blue vespa, forcing the Sparkling to transform out of his alternate mode._

"_I will deal with this. Bumblebee, give Mikaela a ride home."_

_The Autobot commander didn't wait for his scout to leave before walking away, heading away from the base._

_Once the two were suitably far enough away from any distractions, Optimus sat down, placing the Sparkling down in front of him, noting the tenseness in their youngest member's frame. Clearly, he was at least aware that he'd done something wrong._

"_Sparkling" Optimus began, eyes focused on the small charge. "Do you understand why we are upset about what you did?"_

_The Sparkling shook his head, and looked down, away from Optimus's optics._

"_Sparkling, look at me."_

_There was no argument in the voice, and the Sparkling slowly lifted his head back up._

"_Just wanted to try new mode…"_

"_I understand. However, you destroyed Mikaela's vehicle when things did not go your way. Those actions caused her problems, and forced her to do something she did not want to. You are not an immature spark anymore, you must realise there is more to a situation than getting your own way."_

_The Sparkling's optics fell again, and Optimus noted with some satisfaction that what he was saying was at least sticking in the Sparkling's mind._

"_We are to blame too," he continued, and the vespa's head looked up again. "We should have tried to explain this the moment you activated your cannon. However, we didn't, so now all we can do is keep it from happening again. You are an Autobot Sparkling, and we must protect the people of this planet, especially from our own actions."_

_Optimus activated his holographic projectors, and the Sparkling found himself staring at a mechanical city, one that his spark almost seemed to sing at the site of._

"_This is Cybertron…"_

_The Autobot leader spent over an hour with the Sparkling, explaining in the simplest terms possible, life before the war, how it began, how it escalated, and how they had suffered because of it. Finally, he brought up Mission City, managing to skip around specific events (mostly concerning a young teenager the group did their best to avoid bringing up right now) with vague descriptions, and the pain the Autobots had felt with the casualties their war had brought to an innocent race._

"_This war is not over Sparkling, but we cannot allow humans to be forced into fighting. We have no power over them, nor should we ever try to. All we can do is keep them from being harmed, or we are no better than the Decepticons. We protect, we do not destroy, or betray."_

* * *

The backlash from the memory was enough to let the Youngling shudder, and Fragment felt him mentally curl up. It didn't take a genius to figure out why. 

"Aww Primus, you don't seriously think Optimus and the others would reject you when they find out you killed a human?"

"Autobots don't kill humans. Decepticons kill humans."

He received a reply that was more like a growl, and fled deeper into his own subconscious.

"This isn't exactly a normal situation Youngling!" Fragment snapped. "You were hurt, you were scared, you are. Not. A. Soldier. How can you think for even a second that they would hate you for it?"

Slowly, the Youngling inched back into reality, clinging to the voice of his new alter ego.

"If nothing else, you're not an Autobot," Fragment continued. "Not yet anyway. Autobots and Decepticons are soldiers. Right now, all you are is a Youngling who has yet to decide a side. Okay, its kind of a given that you'll be an Autobot, but I don't see you wearing the symbol yet."

"But-"

"And they're big on forgiveness too. I mean, don't I remember Bumblebee telling you Ironhide blew up a planet once?"

The rant was made worth it when the Youngling gave a soft laugh, though it didn't mask the obvious fear and tension still far too dominant.

"Fragment…"

"Yeah?"

"I'm scared."

He has a bodiless voice, floating within his own mind, but the Youngling could swear that Fragment hugged him after those two simple words.

"Listen, I think I know how we can get out of here. And it's not as dangerous as last time given the circumstances."

"How?"

Fragments voice was high in excitement.

"Remember when you touched the computer and I disappeared? I went _into_ the computer. I didn't realise what was going on then, so I didn't do anything but I had control of it, even if it was only for a few seconds."

The Youngling didn't quite follow. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe it's because I'm just a 'program' or something, but I think I can be transferred into other machines" Fragment explained. "And when I'm in them, I can hack my way in and take control. If you can just get close enough to touch a computer, just for a second, maybe I can slip in and get a message out for you."

The notion was…appealing if nothing else. The desire to get out was ever present, and Fragment made it sound so…easy.

And yet…

"There's no way to move anymore."

Fragment sighed. "Given the circumstances, I will allow your negativity, but please don't make me the overly optimistic one forever; I don't think I can handle the strain. Aren't you supposed to be the one who is impossible to cage?"

The Youngling didn't answer, so Fragment explained his plan, far simpler than the last.

"You're in transit right now, which means no matter how hard they try, security is lax, but they're almost at their new sites so they'll have to move you out of this truck. You will be in reaching distance of one of the consoles when they take you out, so all you have to do and give out one good jerk. Fry some wires, charge up the spark chamber, anything. That should be enough to at least get your hand on the console, and I'll take over from there."

Now that he was taking more notice of his surroundings, he could agree. The rocking was becoming slightly more violent, quickly losing speed, and there weren't as many people as he would have expected in the room – there just wasn't room.

"Where did they all go?"

"Not sure, but I think they're escorting this truck. Are you willing to try?"

The Youngling considered trying to nod, but instead chose to make his hand twitch.

"Yes."

* * *

The nondescript black truck hadn't even fully stopped when Simmons jumped out of the passenger seat, bolting round to the back doors and yelling at everyone leaving the vehicles surrounding it. 

"I want him inside within the next two minutes. We have limited time and I'm not wasting any more of it!"

The doors were opened, and the Youngling's restraints were checked before the table was slowly moved out, quickly coming into range of one of the monitors.

Suddenly, the body shrieked, and arched up as if jolted with electricity. Due to the strength of the restraints, and the speed of the involuntary movement, one hand jerked painfully, ripping various systems to pieces and effectively destroying his hand.

The now worthless appendage flopped up and brushed against the machines before dropping lifelessly by his side, and the Youngling was immediately surrounded by scientists.

* * *

The second the metal fingers brushed the non-sentient computer, Fragment leapt into action. Vaguely aware of how it was done before, he jerked in surprise as he once again fled the safety of the Youngling, and found himself in the primitive system. 

Immediately, he knew he had no time. Unlike the first time, when he'd been somewhat at peace for a few seconds before returning, he could already feel the tugging sensation demanding he return. He wasted no time hacking into the system, taking control, and sending out a simple distress call on every Cybertronian frequency he could think of.

"HELP!"

Not even a millisecond faster, he found himself thrown out, and back in the Younglings processor.

* * *

Optimus had been right. None of the other sites had even the slightest trace of the Youngling, and Bumblebee found himself taking a detour off the roads so he could punch some trees in frustration. 

"Where are you?!" he screamed, the agony clear in his voice.

His radio crackled, and Jazz's voice came through. "How you holding up Bee?"

Bumblebee felled another tree before replying. "I can't keep this up Jazz. I haven't been this worried in a long time."

Jazz sighed. "Believe me, I know the feeling. Not knowing is the worse part of it. We just-"

The voice stopped mid-way through, and the Pontiac Solstice, currently driving along a back road, screeched to a stop as the blessedly wonderful transmission came through every receiver he had. On a heavy motorway, Ironhide did the same, only just avoiding causing several collisions, while Optimus immediately did a one eighty and headed in the direction of the transmission, activating communications with his men.

"Jazz, can you verify that signal?"

"Already did Prime. It's a little off, but if definitely came from our little buddy."

"Good. All Autobots, I do believe our Youngling may have finally managed to get a message out. Head towards the location as fast as you can, but do not draw attention to yourselves. I'll contact Secretary Keller and see if there are any of his men close enough to get there before us. Ratchet, try to meet us there as fast as you can."

"Already plotting the route Optimus" the medic replied. "If I place my vehicle in emergency mode I should meet up with you before you reach it."

"Good. Autobots, roll out."

Back in the clearing, Bumblebee stood frozen as the connection cut off, still clinging to that glorious second long transmission, only just coming back to reality when Jazz's voice came through.

"-bee. Hey, Bumblebee, you still functioning?"

Bumblebee shook his head, and shifted back into the Camaro to head back onto the road. "Sorry Jazz, I was a little distracted."

"The two of us are the furthest away you know" Jazz replied. "Interested in finding a loophole in the speeding laws? I hear police cars don't have to follow them during a pursuit."

Bumblebee's engine revved in understanding, and well aware that some distance away, a Pontiac Solstice was doing the same, a Saleen Ford Mustang bolted onto the road, lights blaring.

* * *

"_What did he do?"_

"_I'm not sure. Involuntary spasm maybe?"_

"_Check the monitor; see if anything happened to it."_

Both ignored the voices outside, taking solace in each others company.

"Ratchet is going to yell at you so badly when he sees that hand."

"Don't worry about it" the Youngling replied. "Did you get it out?"

"Cybertronian frequencies. And I made sure there's no way these guys will detect it. I'll bet you anything Bumblebee will be ripping off the doors within the hour."

The Youngling was silent for a while as his body was moved, apparently thinking something over, before he spoke up again.

"Fragment doesn't suit you."

"Come again?"

"You're not just fragments" The Youngling explained. "You aren't Sam, but you can't just be a program anymore, you're like me. I can't call you Fragment."

Fragment chuckled. "Says the guy without a name anyway. What do you suggest?"

Silence won over once again, and the Youngling thought over what the voice had done, on two occasions now.

"Hax…You hack into everything, so Hax."

"Hax. Hax…" Fragment replied, testing it out. "I kinda like it. Does this mean I get to name you?"

The Youngling couldn't help but laugh, and slowly brought himself to reality to wait for his rescue.

* * *

It was some time after; neither was too sure how long, when every human in the building started screaming. The Youngling heard the unmistakable sound of crushing metal, and the blessedly relieving sounds of Cybertronian dialect.

* * *

"What in the-" 

Ironhide slowly rolled to a stop, not quite able to process what he was seeing. Will sat frozen at the wheel, the same disbelief on his face.

Optimus had apparently gotten Secretary Kellers cooperation if the amount of men being led handcuffed into government vehicles was any indication, but Simmons hideout was a mess. The roof was sheared clean off, and the rest of the building still standing looked as if somebody had thrown acid on it. There was also a frightening amount of blood staining the walls and ground.

Realising that one of the men had broken off from arresting the men and was heading towards them, Will stepped out of the truck, allowing Ironhide to transform.

"Captain Lennox I assume?" the man asked, and shook Wills hand when he nodded. "This is a rather bad situation I'm afraid."

"Where is the Youngling?" Ironhide snapped, though one eye was still on the destruction. "Is he safe?"

The man looked sheepish. "We were kind of hoping you could tell us. Nobody can find him, and Simmons isn't making much sense."

Ironhide growled at the mention of the ex-Sector 7 agent, and Will winced.

"Can you take us to him? He might-"

"Wait" Ironhide interrupted, looking back the way he came. Why became obvious when a search and rescue hummer, sirens blaring, and a Peterbuilt truck came shooting down the road, both slamming to a stop by the Weapons Specialist and transforming. The man swallowed heavily as he realised just how high he had to look up to see Optimus, but kept his composure, which put him up a few notches in Wills book.

"What's the situation Ironhide?" Optimus asked, while Ratchet scanned the wreckage with a nervous scowl.

"Don't know yet Optimus" he replied. "Simmons and his men are here, but nobody's seen the Youngling."

The Peterbuilt really didn't like the situation. This kind of damage was not done easily by human means, and the Youngling certainly couldn't have done it. And since Ironhide had been the first Autobot on the scene, none of them were to blame.

"Let's go see Agent Simmons" he finally decided. "Perhaps he can shed some light on this situation."

Their guide told them they were keeping Simmons separate, in one of the few still stable rooms in the building, aware that the Autobots would no doubt want a 'word' with him. Once Optimus and the others were done with him, he was heading towards the nearest maximum security institute they could find until Secretary Keller could decide how many charges to bring him up on.

The clearly dishevelled man was literally dragged out, clearly not looking forward to talking to his new 'guests', just as the sound of police sirens reached the Autobots audio receptors, and saw two Saleens make a beeline for them. Both paintjobs and shapes altered while they raced, returning to a bright yellow and glittering silver, and transformed while moving, skidding to a stop by their commander.

"I assume you didn't draw attention to yourselves?" Ratchet snapped out of frustration. Really, if at least one human hadn't noticed the two cars with sirens blaring for the length of time they had, he'd rip out his optics himself.

Both ignored him, locked onto the small figure in front of them, who had started to visibly shake, though his face betrayed no fear.

Predator slow, Bumblebee crouched down until his head was inches away from Simmons.

"Where. Is. He?"

The shaking in Simmons legs grew stronger, but his face curled in anger.

"As if you don't know!"

A guttural sound was his only reply as Bumblebee, Jazz and Ironhide all brought out their guns, while Optimus merely crossed his arms, well aware that his size was enough to intimidate the former agent.

Realising this could get ugly rather quickly; Will intervened, slipping between the Autobots until he was face to face with Simmons.

"Okay Reggie" he began. "Let's make this simple. You've pissed off a whole lot of people, and there's no getting out of that. However, Bumblebee is about ten seconds from going Decepticon on your ass, so you might want to use the brain cells you still have and tell us what we want to know."

Simmons swung his head in Wills direction. "Unlike you GI Joe, I'll do whatever I have to do for my country, even if it doesn't realise it at the time. You and your metal head friends will never understand that!"

Will didn't rise to Simmons anger, merely staring him down. "Yeah, kidnapping and doing god knows what to a kid, that's definitely in the best interests of our country. Where is he?"

"It's not like it was that simple!"

"I'll ask one more time, and then I'm pretty sure the closest thing you'll have to a 'best case scenario' is if Optimus _doesn't_ join in to the torture you're going to receive. Where is he?"

Simmons averted his eyes, only to see catch the angry gaze of the Autobots glaring at him. Although clearly angry at the turn of events, even he could see the fear hiding behind their current anger.

He growled. "Look, we don't have him anymore. One of you already got him out, and took out half of my men. What makes you think I'm still going to know where he is?

Optimus tensed. "Simmons. The first of us to reach this place was Ironhide. None of us has seen him since you captured him."

Ironhide's cannons began to charge. "Try again squishy."

"I'm serious!" Simmons yelled. "It was the big grey one! Landed here, ripped off the roof like it was a box of Tupperware, shot up half the building, grabbed the brat and flew off!"

He winced as a strangled cry came from Bumblebee; he jerked back and crashed to the ground as if he'd been thrown there. Ironhide cursed, while both Ratchet and Jazz swung their eyes to the wreckage around them, now very much aware of what had happened.

Optimus however, set his optics on the sky, well aware that what they were looking for was long gone.

"Starscream..."

**To be continued . . .**


	14. Starscream

_You know, this chapter made __**way**__ more sense when I planned it out. I think that was way back when I was still trying to figure out what I was going to do with the whole thing and it didn't have a storyline. That and it gave me leeway for a sequel when I actually had a grasp on other Decepticon personalities (since I think two OC's starring in a fic is probably enough – even __**if**__ they're technically reincarnations of a canon character)._

_Oh, and since the Youngling is now interacting with people directly, I'm changing how Hax speaks. From now on, any inner speech will be done as follows:_

_-Talk-_

_The Youngling uses it as well, but anytime he uses quotations, he's talking out loud. When Dreams of All gets time to beta the final chapters I'll go back and switch the speech too._

_R&R

* * *

_

**Starscream**

"How did he do it?"

The youngling flinched at the voice, echoing throughout the F-22 cockpit several miles up in the air. "What?"

"You heard me," the voice growled in cybertronian. "You're far too young to exist, so how did Prime do it? The humans certainly don't have the skill."

Youngling's chest, which was still missing its armour and was decorated in various incision holes began to spark, and the youngling slapped a hand over the worst case while speaking to his alter ego.

-What do I tell him Hax? -

However, Hax was at a loss as much as he was.

-I'm not sure- he began. –I just really, really don't want to trust him him-

"Speak!" Starscream snapped, taking the silent conversation as hesitation. "I'm in no mood to be treated like a fool!"

The youngling panicked, trying to piece together a believable lie, and failed. With no other option, and his current saviours patience clearly wearing thin, he decided on the truth.

"I was created from the soul of Sam Witwicky and the body of the Decepticon Barricade…"

* * *

"Bumblebee, you need to calm down." 

"Calm down? Calm down? Starscream has him Ratchet. Starscream!"

Jazz wasn't much better, pacing over his own footprints, walking nowhere in circles.

"Why have we let that glitch live this long?"

Not for the first time, Optimus cursed the fates that resulted in him being named Prime. At least with humans, they had some idea of what they might do to the Youngling. With Starscream, there were dozens of options. And most of them weren't favourable.

He forced himself to calm, and narrowed his optics on Agent Simmons, who was still looking somewhat petrified at his situation.

"I expect every _shred_ of data that you forced out of the Youngling to be sent to our base" he warned, leaning down for full effect. "And I intend to speak long and hard to Secretary Keller about the repercussions you will receive."

With that, Simmons was returned to the hands of his 'guards' and ushered towards the rest of his men. Stepping back from the trio, Will kept his expression unreadable, noting how Simmons quickly lost his posture, sinking deeper into the men's hold.

It was the walk of a man condemned. Even Simmons knew he wasn't getting out of this one.

Meanwhile, Optimus turned to his men, clearly desperate for orders. Orders he was happy to give, finally free of the human treaties that had leashed them.

"Autobots, Starscream has so far managed to evade us for months" he began. "But his actions will have to change with the Youngling in his car-"

Bumblebee growled at the choice of words, and Optimus quickly amended it.

"-His possession. If he didn't kill him here, it's likely he wants him alive for now. We can, and will catch him, and get the Youngling back, no matter what it takes. Autobots, roll out."

They needed no further encouraging.

* * *

It could only have been a few minutes, but the silence that followed the Youngling's rather lengthy explanation seemed to last an eternity. 

Eventually, the Jet began to lower altitude, and Starscream chuckled throughout the F-22 cockpit where the Youngling sat, before replying in English.

"So the last cybertronian to ever be born, started out as the human that destroyed Megatron?"

The chuckling grew into full out laughter as the ground came into full view – a vast expanse of desert where little to nothing seemed to live. "You have some interesting credentials little spark."

The Youngling didn't answer, merely sinking further into the jets seat, but Starscream could feel the small mech loose some of the tenseness in his joints. Clearly he was happy that Starscream had believed him.

"You might want to hold on. I've never landed with a passenger before."

The Youngling barely had time to register the warning before Starscream's wheels hit the ground, and the smooth glide became a harsh, bumpy fight for control. Youngling's optics snapped shut, while Hax's voice became a high-pitched whine at the actions.

Finally, blessedly, the Jet came to a stop, and the cockpit lifted while Starscream barked out a simple "get out," transforming the second the Youngling hit the ground, ignoring the slight stumble and hiss of pain the Ducati's body gave from the actions. Hax immediately tried to access the communications to the Autobots, only to find Starscream was blocking them somehow, and cursed the jet profoundly, causing the Youngling to wince.

Once he was back in his far more comfortable robot form, Starscream stretched, similar to a human, and looked around the abandoned desert with a scowl.

"I can't stand organic planets, I can't wait to see this dump converted."

The Youngling tensed, and looked over the deserted land with memory of the Autobot base.

"Even their _cities_ are filthy" Starscream continued. "Industrial evolution? It's a slow poison! I've never met a more backwards and irritating race. Their only saving grace is that they locked Megatron up for a century, and they even screwed that up!"

"Its not that bad" the Youngling defended. "I like it."

Starscream made a noise of contempt. "Please. You know nothing else. You're just a scrap of a sparkling who hasn't even begun to see what else is out there."

The Youngling wanted to reply, if just to insist that he wasn't a Sparkling, but found his answer caught in his vocaliser as yet more warning signs flashed across his optics, and dropped to his knees with an electronic whimper, using his one good hand to cover up the damage.

-Dammit! - Hax shrieked. -Stay with me dude! Don't go into stasis just now, hang in there! -

Both were so wrapped up in keeping their body working, that they didn't even notice Starscream walking over and kneeling down beside them, optics narrowing as he took in the damage.

"Stupid creatures" he muttered. "They had access to the cube and Megatron for one of their lifetimes, and this primitive attempt is what resulted? I've met races with far less sentient thought with more brain cells. Humanity should be culled for the good of evolution."

A thing finger brushed the Youngling's hand away from the chest, taking in the damage. It was bad, though not quite life threatening yet, and he certainly couldn't do anything about it, but if the cybertronian went into stasis, it would prevent it from getting worse.

Apparently afraid of the Decepticon's contact, the Youngling jerked back, stumbling across the ground before falling to his knees again, taking his worthless arm in the holder, holding them close to his chest.

"Don't touch me!"

However, rather than being irritated, Starscream just smirked, taking in the little figure.

"At least you have some courage. I can't stand whiny little sparks who aren't willing to defend themselves."

But his reply didn't seem to placate the Youngling, instead resulting in him curling in on himself, his optics focused on his arms. When he took a closer look at the thin appendages, Starscream noticed the very faint traces of organic liquid dotting the one no longer working. Without giving the Youngling time to see his interest, his own hand shot out, grabbing the arm between his fingers and clutching it tightly. The Youngling shrieked, and found the vicious blade shooting out once again, clearly stained with a human's blood.

Starscream's smirk turned into a full out grin, and he dropped the arm with care before stepping back.

"Now you've really impressed me. Good to know those eyesores haven't completely wiped out your survival instincts."

The Youngling froze, staring at the blood. The blade had been returned so quickly after the…incident, that it was logical the blood remained. But somehow, that knowledge had escaped him, and he could only stare at the red dirt, those few horrendous seconds replaying in his head.

-It wasn't your fault- Hax consoled. –It was an accident, you know that–

-I still did it though-

Starscream's grin faded as he realised the Youngling was focused on the weapon, and not in the 'yay! -My-first-kill!' way, but in the pathetically Autobot I-killed-a-sentient-creature way.

"Oh do yourself a favour and get over it," he snapped, getting a small amount of pleasure from the shock on the youngling's face when his head jerked up. "They were planning on far worse for you."

"But-"

"We are superior to them!" Starscream interrupted. "They're primitive, simple and incapable of understanding even the most basic principles. Even without our interference, humanity would die out due to its own stupidity. Look what they've done to the planet they call home! To them we are gods, and they fear us because of it. You have Decepticon in your build, you should at least know this!"

-He's wrong- Hax insisted. –Humans aren't all bad. There's Mikky and Will, and there was Sam. Like Optimus says, they're just…young-

-Like us- Youngling whispered, head bowing.

* * *

It was hard to tell whether or not what he said had registered with the Youngling. On the one hand, he hadn't stood up to vehemently protest against Starscream's obvious statement, but he hadn't agreed with him either. 

Deciding that was probably better than nothing, he reached over once again. The Youngling tensed when he felt Starscream's long fingers on his head, but barely had time to register what he was doing before he felt the undeniable pull of a forced stasis upon him, and fell back into his inactive state, the blade shifting back into his arm.

When he was certain the little mech wasn't going to get up again, Starscream walked a small distance away, and fired into the ground, filling the air with grit and dust. Once a suitably sized hole was created, he began the task he hated. Dismantling his form.

Starscream was no idiot. One did not take leadership of a group of vicious, murderous creatures and _keep_ it for as long as he had without having more processing power than most. Especially when nearly every member was loyal to a missing in action leader he was trying to not-find.

And now that he was alone on this planet, heavily outnumbered and reinforcements still some time away, that gift was coming in handy in order to keep him hidden.

He removed his thrusters and carefully placed them in the hole, he remembered the fight he'd had with the Autobots several months ago, which had left him damaged beyond repair. There chances of finding somewhere that could fix the damage without being detected, at least in this form, were minimal at very best. And many parts of the outer shell had been far too damaged to just change his form again. It had been then, that his possibly greatest plan had come into being.

As unnecessary parts, specifically to do with flight or his alt mode followed the thrusters, he laughed at the amount of panic the Autobots would be in right now, and just how wrong their search would be.

Instead of risking detection by arriving as a damaged jet, he had removed most of the flight capable parts, sending them to various human companies that specialised in fixing (or in some cases, replicating) parts, and taking on another alt form that could have the remainders fixed at a simple out-of-the-way garage. Starscream was built for the sky and for battle; it was inconceivable that he would _willingly_ shed copious amounts of his weight and his flight capabilities, even if it was to hide. And it had worked. He was repaired without a single passing scan of the enemy, and back in the skies in no time.

And now, with his next mission, the sky was far too dangerous to own. The other, smaller, ground-bound alt form was required once again. Painfully shifting into the car, he drove up to the still form of the Youngling, and shifted enough of his mass to grab the small body and lay him over his seats before heading towards the road only a few miles away.

And as far as vehicles without wings went, he didn't mind this one too much. True, even without his extra mass, it really was too small for him, and it was painful to keep for long periods, but it looked far too good to consider swapping for something larger.

With the Autobots and their allies searching the skies for the lone Decepticon, only strangers driving along the roads batted an eye when the Lamborghini Reventón glided out of the desterted lands and onto the road.

* * *

It was a few hours later, with Optimus and the rest of the Autobots speeding along the roads while searching for traces of Starscream, when all screeched to a stop, hit with the Youngling's signal once again. 

This time, coming from their own base.

* * *

-Where are we? – 

The Youngling groaned, wincing as his optics opened to the glare of the sun, thankfully not as strong as it could be due to the time. And now, on top of his other injuries, his right shoulder was starting to ache, not that it was too much of a surprise. It had been the only part of the inert arm that hadn't hurt earlier.

-I'm not sure, where's Star-

The Youngling bolted upright, realising for the first time that they were alone.

"Starscream?"

The jet was nowhere to be seen, but the panic of being abandoned quickly subsided when the Youngling realised just where they were.

-I don't believe it- Hax murmured, and the Youngling swung around, and dropped to his knees as he came face to face with the Autobot base.

-He actually brought us back- Hax said, awe in his voice.

"I guess Starscream isn't that bad" Youngling replied, walking up to the door, and scratched his right shoulder. Just before he entered, he froze; realising that what was causing the ache was actually grooved into his armour.

-Youngling? – Hax asked, unaware of the problem. –I can't detect anyone in the base. You want me to send a signal out or do you-

"Hax"

-…Yeah? –

"This is new."

As he looked through the Youngling's optics, Hax cursed and growled inside the Youngling's processor.

Newly engraved on the Youngling's shoulder, was a clearly marked Decepticon symbol.

* * *

The look on the Youngling's face would keep Starscream entertained for months. 

He increased his speed as he envisioned the face almost falling apart in shock when it woke up on the outskirts of the Autobot base, and then discovering Starscream's 'gift'. He wished he could have had a closer look, but not wishing the Autobots to find out just how he was staying hidden from their sensors, he'd kept himself hidden several miles from the Youngling, relying on optical magnification before leaving. The Autobot medic would be able to remove the mark easily enough, Starscream hadn't had to capabilities to make it too deep, but it would send the Autobots a clear message.

He hadn't really known what to make of the message he received several hours ago. It had been short, panicked cybertronian, and its lack of coding or precision meant whoever had sent it hadn't really cared what side found him – unheard of tactics for Decepticon and Autobot. His first guess was a neutral, and that had been an interesting enough titbit for the lone Decepticon to make an appearance.

When he'd shown up at the base, there was no sign of the signal-bearer, but he'd clearly been recognised judging from the amount of panicked humans running around, so he decided to have a little fun. It was only after he'd ripped of the roof to throw at some of the annoying fleshlings that he'd detected the familiar signal, and shredded the building further to come face to face with the Youngling.

Starscream had killed his share of Younglings early in the war. Those that didn't fight either fled or died – and Younglings had usually ended up in the former category. But the sheer raw _anger_ at the humans critically injuring one of their too few race was enough to make him see red.

By the time he had suitably calmed down to think clearly, the base was a smouldering ruin several miles behind him, and he had a Youngling sitting in his cockpit, trembling both from his injuries and his fear.

At first he couldn't make sense of it. The creature in his cockpit couldn't exist, the Allspark was destroyed before any new sparklings could be brought to life, and he refused to accept that humans had managed to come up with a way to do it.

And then the Youngling had told him of his origins. The Allsparks final 'gift' to Megatrons killer, brought to life after ripping Barricades sparkless body to shreds.

It was so deliciously cruel he had trouble believing it was the Autobots who had done it. But Starscream had intentions to make it crueller.

Oh he'd returned the Youngling to the Autobots for now, but that was survival only. Right now he had to protect himself, until reinforcements descended on this mud pile. The Autobots would rip apart this continent to find him so long as he had the Youngling. While he waited, the youngling would remember the Decepticon that saved him, even while the Autobots trained him for war.

And when the time was right, he'd be back, and teach the Youngling, the destroyer of Megatron, what is was to be a Decepticon. The last youngling in existence would embrace their side, whether he realised it or not. He had already taken the first step, killing that human, regardless of the circumstances, or how bad he felt about it.

And when that time came, the image of the Youngling's shock would be replaced with Optimus Prime's optics filling with horror and failure.

He almost couldn't wait.

* * *

The Youngling's fingers eventually left the new mark on his shoulder; he entered the base, dragging himself towards the med bay. He didn't know how to fix himself, but at least he could be ready for when Ratchet appeared. 

-Wish I could help- Hax said. –But I only have some of your memories and some of Sam's, and he would have been as clueless as you-

The Youngling laughed. "Its okay. You've done enough already. If it wasn't for you, I might still be in there, or dead."

Hax didn't reply, but the Youngling could feel the voice was grateful, and he was hit with a sudden realisation.

"Hax?"

-Yeah? –

"I think…"

-What? –

"I think I know my name now."

The voice laughed.

-Aww, You're not going to let me pick it? –

"Nope. But I really think you'll like it though."

-Heh, okay Youngling. What should I call you? –

The Youngling smiled, and looked up at the roof of the med bay.

"Call me Deuce."

**To be continued. . .**

* * *

_I have to admit it was quite interesting how many people seem positive that Starscream would have no value in Deuce (GOD is so good not to have to refer to him as 'Youngling' anymore) or would torture him. I'm also aware that a whole lot of people are probably going to consider this anticlimactic or not particularly 'Starscreamy'. However, its my fanfic, so I can do what I want, heh._

_No doubt some people will hate me for turning Starscream into a car, but come on! The Reventon is one of the two most gorgeous (and certainly the most dangerous looking) cars out there. I fell in love with it via the TF2007fun forum, but the moment I saw it on Top Gear, I __**had**__ to find a way to get it into a fic._

_Anyway, just one more chapter to go, and Format will finally reach its end._

_NOTE: A couple of reviewers mentioned they don't know what 'Deuce' means - it's effectively the letter 'two' in latin._


	15. Deuce

_First off, Merry Christmas to one and all. Secondly, sorry it took so long. It went into the far recesses of my mind while I worked through coursework piece after coursework piece, and once I was done with that, there was a week till Christmas and I was on nightshift for all of it. Trying to write more than a paragraph a day was close to impossible._

_Anyway, I succeeded, and here it is, in its completed-but-unbetaed-since-my-beta-is-having-real-life-problems glory, the final chapter of Format. Enjoy.

* * *

_**Deuce**

The door of the base crumpled under the weight of Bumblebee, and he skidded to a stop, eyes locking on the entrance to the med bay, where that glorious signal emanated from.

"Youngling?!"

He bolted for the door, Jazz only a few metres behind, while the others followed at a slower but still hasty pace. Ironhide hesitated at the door to allow Will out before transforming.

"Wait outside" Ironhide warned. "If he's still frightened, a human might not be the best thing for him to see."

Will nodded and stepped back. "Fine, but let me know as soon as you can."

Bumblebee entered the med bay ad froze for a brief moment, taking in the small frame huddled on the massive table, and flew to his side.

"Youngling!"

His hand lightly stroked the small chest, trying to avoid the most obvious damages. The young Autobot was a mess, the frontal part of his chest was ripped away, the remainder of his Ducati armour was mangled, and his right arm…if Ratchet didn't have to replace it in its entirety he was a far better medic than even he realised.

He heard a growl uttered behind him, closely followed by a seething hiss. He looked up to find Jazz leaning over the table, and Ratchet was beginning to circle the table, optics flashing in anger.

Seconds later, Optimus and Ironhide joined the group, their anger equally visible.

"Those malformed, primitive, backward evolved, pit spawn ingrates!" Ratchet snarled, leaning over the youngling and bringing him out of recharge.

"I only hope he was lucky enough to stay in recharge or stasis. I'd shudder to think of what this would have fel-"

He stopped abruptly as the Youngling's optics flashed online. He gave a few sluggish blinks before his optics widened, and he grabbed onto Ratchets hand.

"You're back."

Bumblebee winced at the raspy tone coming from the vocaliser. Was there any part of the Youngling still working anymore? His chassis tensed as he considered everything he was going to do to Simmons the next time he saw him.

But then he caught sight of the sheer relief in the youngling's optics, his small head turning to take in every Autobot there, and the anger faded from him.

Next to Bumblebee, Jazz leaned in closer, brushing a hand over the youngling's helm. "Hey little buddy. Ratchet's gonna fix you right up. You just hang tight okay?"

"How is he Ratchet?" Optimus enquired, looming over both of his men, Ironhide pacing a few feet away, sending furtive glances towards the group and the table. At the sound of his voice, the youngling tried to sit up to get a better look, only to be pushed back down by Ratchet.

"You stay still, I'm still scanning your systems," the medic snapped, and a few moments later, his engine revved in anger.

"Ratchet?" Optimus asked again, and the medic looked up, and transmitted the results to the other Autobot's privately.

_-This was torture. They ignored any safety restrictions in exchange for speed. This frontal damage could have easily been avoided, but they just ripped right in. The energon lines near his spark are leaking internally, but he's been throwing himself into recharge so often its not fatal yet. But the rest of it-_

He shook his head before continuing.

_-Some of the outer frame is just superficial damage, but several circuits underneath have been crushed. And the arm-_

Ratchet optics narrowed on the youngling's right shoulder, and unsure of what he was concentrating on, Optimus walked over, and stopped stock still at the symbol his medic was fingering.

"That's"

_-It was performed with a minor laser-_ Ratchet interrupted. _-I can buff it out in a couple of hours_-

"Please don't-"

All heads swung down as the youngling's voice broke off. He shook his head, and then continued with the internal messaging.

_-Please don't talk over my head. I want to know what's happening. Please?-_

The voice was devoid of the youngling's usually confidence, and Ratchet withdrew the finger over the Decepticon symbol, only to find it grabbed by the youngling again. Clearly he wasn't ready to give up Cybertronian contact just yet.

"Sorry Youngling. But you've been through enough. I didn't want to worry you."

"Deuce."

Ratchet blinked. "Come again?"

"Deuce. Its my designation."

Jazz was the first to reply, giving the youngling a smirk.

"Deuce. I like it. What do you think Bee?"

Bumblebee broke off eye contact with the youngling to look at the second in command, and gave a small smile in return.

"Yeah. Deuce. It suits him."

A rough chuckle escaped the youngling, and he looked up at Bumblebee.

"You have no idea."

Ratchet sighed. "Okay, everybody out. I have a lot of work to do."

Chaos erupted and Jazz and Bumblebee leaped to their feet in anger.

"No way Ratch!"

"I'm not leaving him alone again Ratchet!"

"Both of you calm down!" Optimus snapped, and both Autobots jerked to attention. Optimus sighed, and scratched his nose before continuing.

"The two of you can wait _outside_ while Ratchet works. He needs to concentrate, and you two hovering over him is not going to help."

"But-"

"Optimus, with all due respect-"

"That's an order. Both of you."

Both shut up, and glared at him before turning their attention back to the youngling.

"Okay Deuce, we'll be right outside" Jazz began, crouching You let ol'Ratch patch you up and we'll see each other soon, alright?"

"Alright."

As Jazz walked off, Bumblebee took his place, and stroked Deuce's helm similar to how Jazz had earlier. "I'm glad you're okay," he said. "I swear on Primus that I wont ever let anything like this happen to you again."

For what seemed like forever, Deuce just stared up at the camaro, and a shaky smile appeared on his face. Bumblebee returned it before walking away. Ironhide followed him, hesitating at the door, turning and smiling.

"You did well runt", he said, and walked out. Optimus nodded in agreement before following his weapon specialist, not noticing the youngling drop his head, unable to look at them.

"Ratchet, I'm going to have Ironhide escort Will to Mikaela's home to explain what happened. Meanwhile, I'm going to contact Secretary Keller. There are a few things we need to discuss.

Ratchet nodded grimly, and turned to Deuce, who was shaking slightly.

"What's wrong?"

Deuce shook his head. "They're wrong. I didn't do well."

Noticing the medic about to argue the contrary, Deuce jumped ahead. "I didn't. I did something really bad."

Ratchet walked closer, noting that the stress was putting a strain on the younglings systems.

"Deuce. Whatever you did, I promise we wont think any different of you."

The youngling didn't reply, and Ratchet sighed.

"We'll talk about it later. For now, lets get you into stasis and-"

"NO!"

Ratchet jerked as Deuce grabbed his arm, panic rippling through his frame. "No stasis! No more stasis!"

"Youngling" Ratchet began. "I cannot operate on you unless you've entered stasis. Some of your injuries are going to require complete immobility.

But Deuce continued to shake his head, clutching the yellow metal. "No stasis! No Stasis!"

The medic wilted at the obvious fear in the youngling's voice, and he could somewhat sympathise. Deuce had been sending himself into recharge so much over such a short while, only to find his situation get worse each and every time. He couldn't begrudge him for not wanting to become unconscious now that he felt safe.

Slowly kneeling by his side, Ratchet curled his arm around the small youngling and brought him closer to the edge, until he was leaning directly over the plating that covered Ratchet's spark. Deuce's optics closed, drowning in the comfort of the nearby spark. None of the Autobots had held him close to their sparks since he'd learned to talk properly.

"Deuce, I promise you'll be okay. But if it would make you feel better, I can program a temporary alert that will automatically wake you if my spark leaves your vicinity. Would that help?"

Slowly, Deuce opened his optics and looked up. He gave a small smile and a nod, before returning to leaning on the spark again.

"Okay then, lets get to work."

* * *

While Ratchet worked, Ironhide took Will to Tranquility and Jazz and Bumblebee stood guard. Optimus meanwhile, headed towards his own quarters, accessing the number of the Secretary of Defence. 

And so far, it wasn't going well.

"I don't see the problem Secretary Keller," Optimus said, irritation colouring his voice. "Agent Simmons didn't just ignore the treaties, he ripped them up, set them on fire and jumped up and down on the remains. By law he should be punished accordingly."

"I agree Optimus" Keller replied. "But this is a complicated situation, not to mention sensitive. The chain of command is still trying to decide how to handle it."

"How complicated can it be? He kidnapped and tortured one of our own, and a child at that."

"A child who technically doesn't exist by most laws" Keller explained. "Not to mention isn't human and isn't technically a minor. It's hard to figure out just what to charge him with that won't attract attention but will work accordingly. Death row has already been vetoed."

"He needs to be put behind bars Keller."

"And he will be Optimus. At the moment, the chances of Simmons ever breathing free air are almost nil. If nothing else, I can promise you that."

It wasn't as specific as the leader of the Autobots would have liked, but it would have to do.

"Very well. What about the data he required."

He didn't get an answer.

"John?"

He heard a sigh. "The president and several former members of Sector Seven feel that keeping a copy of whatever was found would be prudent. I have orders not to touch it until it has been duplicated."

Secretary Keller could swear he could hear metal being ripped to shreds.

"I see. Your government still doesn't feel that it can trust us. They aren't willing to break the treaties but they have no qualms about finding those who will."

"Optimus, I assure you, Simmons acted alon-"

"Perhaps" Optimus interrupted. "But your 'chain of command' seems happy to benefit from it."

John Keller sighed. "I'm sorry Optimus, but there's really nothing I can do about it. I'll have the original work sent to you as soon as I get my hands on it."

"…Then that will have to be enough for now."

Optimus Prime cut off the connection and sighed heavily. Keller had promised Simmons would be held for life, though on what charges was still being decided, but the human government was intending to keep copies of data that, should they find it fruitful enough, may convince them to try again. Optimus liked to think the best of all sentient beings, but one could change the fact that some would stop at nothing for their goals. Megatron had been enough to cement that fact in his processor.

His internal communications snapped on, and Ratchets voice came through.

_-Optimus, you really have to see this-_

The medics voice sounded tense, even afraid, and Optimus felt his spark tighten.

_-What's wrong Ratchet? -_ he asked, trying to keep his reply level. _-Is Deuce okay? -_

Ratchet struggled to answer_. -I…I really don't know. I've never seen anything like this. You really need to see it to believe it. -_

_-I'm on my way-_

* * *

Needless to say, both Jazz and Bumblebee rounded on him as he came to the door of the med bay, and insisted on going in with him. But the three stopped dead at the sight of Ratchet leaning over their youngling, shaking his head in disbelief. Deuce's Spark Chamber was open, his life force in plain view. 

"Ratchet?" Optimus began. "Tell me there's not something wrong with his spark."

By his side, Bumblebee tensed. Damage to the spark was not something a medic could easily fix. And certainly not with the facilities and lack of help Ratchet had at the moment.

Ratchet looked up, and gestured at them to come over.

"Like I said, I'm not sure."

All three came closer, and Optimus's eyes widened. It was only at Bumblebee's shocked gasp and Jazz's whispered 'Primus' that he even remembered they had followed him.

"I was checking his processor was any irregularities when I found it was working at almost twice its normal power" Ratchet explained. The Lookout Program seems to have mutated. Its now dominating a small percentage of his processor, but its isolated itself so Deuce can't access it. I couldn't understand what happened, so I decided to look at his spark to see if this had effected its core."

He gestured down at the still form, and shook his head.

"I've never seen anything like it."

Neither had Optimus. At least, not within a cybertronian. The spark was no longer a simple ball of energy, instead, the core was clearly noticeable from the outside energy, and hung in the centre of the chamber. The outer energy encompassed more than half of it, the remnants of the youngling's original spark. But now, touching the larger by only the most minute of traces, was another, smaller energy ball, hooked to the same core.

"Whatever Simmons did" Ratchet continued. "It's forced Deuce's spark to split. I didn't even know that was possible after being first created. Splitting sparks is unique, a random occurrence. You can't just split one that's perfectly stable."

"He hasn't" Jazz interrupted, pointing to the core. "There might be two of them, but there's only one core. They're fused together."

"Siamese twins" Bumblebee murmured, looking up the information while the others examined Deuce. "Human twins are sometimes born sharing parts of their body. Is it similar?"

Ratchet followed suit in searching online and nodded. "Barring the fact that Deuce was 'born' without this new spark, its similar. Though I have no idea if I should separate them. Primus, I don't even know if **can** separate them. I'll have to talk to Deuce once he's repaired – perhaps he can shed some light on this."

"Ratch, he might not even know this has happened" Jazz argued. "He was in a pretty bad way."

"Oh he knows" Ratchet muttered. "Or at the very least suspects. I highly doubt he picked the designation 'Deuce' shortly after this occurred solely because he liked it."

Optimus shook his head in disbelief.

"We wont get the files for some time yet, but perhaps they'll shed some light on what happened. For now, is there anything else?"

Ratchet frowned, struggling internally before coming to a decision.

"He's managed to activate a pair of dual blades in his arms recently, and one of them was coated in organic matter. Before I put him into stasis, he said he'd done a 'bad thing' earlier. I think he may have caused a fatality by accident."

Bumblebee growled. "Good."

"Quiet Bumblebee!" Optimus snapped, before turning his attention back to the medic. "Opinion?"

"If he has, its probably going to give him some issues" Ratchet explained. "You yourself told him that we try not to harm sentient creatures, even at the costs of ourselves. He's probably petrified of how we'll react. Especially if Starscream picked up on it. We have no idea what happened to him before he arrived here.

At the end of the day, all we can do is try to help him recover, and hear from him what happened.

* * *

Questioning however, had to wait. Even with Ratchets non-stop care, Deuce was kept offline for two days while the medic painstakingly went over every component, looking for abnormalities. While he worked, Bumblebee kept up his vigil outside the med bay, while Optimus requested Jazz's help in looking through the files Simmons had filled in his short time with the youngling. 

Jazz started going to the firing range far more often after those reading sessions.

However, the question of the double spark was never answered. According to reports, it had already been in place before they had arrived at their base of operations.

It appeared that the only one who could answer this golden question, was Deuce.

* * *

-Wake up sleepy head- 

Deuce groaned as his body was pulled from stasis. –How come you always get in the first word? –

Hax laughed. –First and last. Get used to it-

Deuce tried to reply, but found his optics activating on a crowd of Autobots, and found his attentions needed elsewhere.

* * *

"How do you feel Deuce?" 

The small cybertronian wasn't entirely sure who voice the question, but a quick systems check turned up no problems, and he brought his arms into view, delighted that both were now working. He looked up with a shaky smile and nodded.

"Feel great. Good as new."

This brought a smile to their faces, but didn't quite cover up the expressions in their optics. As Optimus knelt down to eye level, Deuce braced himself.

-They know I killed a human Hax- he whispered.

-Calm down- Hax urged. –You know Optimus. Do you really think he'll damn you for it? –

-But-

-Besides- Hax continued, amusement in his voice. –I don't think that is what this is really going to be about-

Before Deuce could reply, Optimus began talking to him.

"Deuce" he said. "There are some things we need to talk about."

Deuce looked down. "I didn't mean to kill him" he whimpered.

His optics were slammed shut, so he didn't see the looks of surprise surrounding him.

"So that was your 'bad thing'" Ratchet guessed, and was proven right when a harsh nod was the reply.

Bumblebee was quick to intervene. He longed to hold him, to give him complete comfort, but was aware that this wasn't a situation where it was an option. Instead, his hand came up to stroke the youngling's helm, in slow soothing caresses.

As the soft touch, Deuce's optics slowly opened up on Bumblebee's smiling face.

"Deuce" he said. "You said yourself you didn't mean to do it. Nobody would blame you for defending yourself."

"Given the circumstances it was almost inevitable" Ironhide butted in, looking at the youngling with sympathy. "It wasn't your fault runt."

Deuce shuddered, and Bumblebee feared they hadn't gotten through to him, only to be pleasantly surprised by the youngling leaning completely onto his hand, which had still been stroking his helm. The tenseness of his figure was starting to wane.

Optimus was reluctant to interrupt the two. Bumblebee was clearly elated at having Deuce not bolt to Jazz for comfort, while Deuce appeared the most content he'd been in a while. However, the issue concerning the double spark still had to be explained.

"Deuce, that wasn't why we wanted to talk to you."

The youngling looked up in confusion, and Optimus couldn't help but wonder if Ratchet was wrong about him knowing the situation.

"Your spark" he began. "Something has happened to it, and according to the information we received, it happened before anyone did anything to you. Do you know what happened."

For a moment, Deuce looked blank, and then his optics widened.

"What did I do to it?"

Ratchet answered before Optimus could explain, eager to get a reply.

"It looks as if your spark has tried to split in two," he said. "Only they've remained together at the core. I have no idea what could have caused this, so I hoped you could explain."

Deuce visibly drooped, and pulled away from Bumblebee's hand, much to the Camaro's dismay. "I think I did it."

Every optic on him narrowed.

"What do you mean?" Optimus asked.

Deuce's optics refused to meet theirs. "When I got caught, I was…angry. I blamed the Lookout Program, they wanted me because I wasn't like you. It was still functioning after I got caught so…I…I purged it from my processor."

Bumblebee jerked back, more in shock than anything else. "You did what?"

"How did you even manage that?" Ratchet asked. "Every time I tried it appeared as if it didn't exist."

Deuce shrugged. "I just did. But when I woke up, it was still there, but different."  
"Different how?" Ratchet asked.

"It's not a program now" Deuce finished. "He's a friend."

* * *

The conversation lasted hours, far longer than anyone expected, and ended with a demonstration of Hax's existence, by allowing Deuce to transfer the other mind's consciousness into Ratchet for a few moments, and then into the base's computer. 

Eventually, as night began to fall, Deuce was relieved from answering questions, and at his request, Optimus allowed Jazz and Bumblebee to escort him out. It was almost upsetting that the once free spirited youngling hadn't complained about the bodyguards, but the Autobot leader had faith that Deuce would eventually return to his cocky, confident self.

When the three vanished from view, he returned to Ironhide and Ratchet, both of whom were clearly not so adjusted with these turn of events.

"He didn't speak a word about Starscream" Ironhide began when Optimus was close enough. "Whenever we tried to bring it up he changed the subject."

"It could be that he doesn't remember anything," Ratchet argued. "He's still rather shaken from all of this, it would hardly be surprising."

Ironhide shrugged. "I'm just saying that maybe we should keep a closer eye on him for now. I don't believe for a second that Starscream returned him without a scratch without some ulterior motive."

"That may be the case Ironhide" Optimus replied. "But I trust Deuce, and he will tell us when he feels ready."

He turned to the other member of his team. "What about the situation with Hax Ratchet?"

The medic sighed. "Well, he's certainly not just a program anymore, but he's definitely not a reincarnation of Sam either. He's his own 'bot, just without a body. But his existence…it makes me wonder."

"How so?"

"Well, he was essentially created from memory fragments, and created through an already existing spark" Ratchet began. "If I could manage to find a way to separate the two of them, he'll be the first spark created without the aid of the All Spark."

Ironhide's optics widened. "You don't think…"

Ratchets own optics burned with determination. "If I could find a way to replicate the process using memory fragments of Autobots, there may be hope for our race yet."

At the light in his medical officers optics, Optimus felt his own spark lift, and turned back in the direction the youngling had vanished in.

Perhaps there was still hope.

* * *

Jazz almost found it incredible. The lookout was where this whole nightmare had begun. Even if it held a sentimental place in his spark he'd have given it a wide berth. 

And yet, Deuce had headed straight here. It appeared some things would never change.

Both he and Bumblebee transformed first, and only when both were standing tall did Deuce transform, his optics shooting glances at the road almost involuntarily while he walked closer to the edge.

-Guess we're too late for the sunset- he mused apologetically.

-It's okay- Hax replied. –They'll be other times. Just wanted to see it for myself for once, not just as memories-

Deuce sat down, happy to relax in the nightglow.

-So- he began. –Why do **you** like this place? You made me come here so much-

Hax laughed. –Hey, you like it too-

-But you liked it first- Deuce argued.

Hax didn't reply, and Deuce was beginning to think he wouldn't get an answer, until the voice came through in a quiet tone.

-Because to the memory fragments I was, and still have, everything important begins and ends here- he said. –Memory fragments or not, that's something I take to be true, so…I just can't keep away-

Deuce smiled. –Want to go race Jazz and Bumblebee?"

Hax snickered. –Just don't make them look too bad. We want them to agree to a rematch-

The smiled grew into a grin, and Deuce leapt to his feet, leaping past his two still-standing guardians and transforming as he hit the road.

_-Race you home!-_ he shrieked, and hit the gas.

"Deuce!"

"Oh you are so on rookie!"

**The End.

* * *

**

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed, especially those of you who reviewed every chapter, and/or put it on alert or favourites. It meant a lot that you all enjoyed it. _

_Will there be a sequel? I don't know. I had considered doing one if I got enough ideas, but at this time I only have a couple of ideas and nothing that could even constitute a chapter, much less a story so I wouldn't put much hope into seeing one just yet. _

_This has been one of the best fan fiction communities to write in just thanks to how friendly everyone is. This is the largest fanfic I have ever written, and I have only ever once found a story so enjoyable to write, and I'm willing to bet that's because there are just so many decent people in this community, so thank you all. _


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